


Show Me Everything I Missed

by MollyMaryMarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, BUT I SWEAR ITS NOT ALL BAD, But bear with me on that, But some of it comes back around to the present, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Modern Era, Modern Marauders (Harry Potter), Most of the trauma is in the past, NONE of this applies to their relationship, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Assault, Past Torture, Phone Sex, Physical Abuse, Plus!, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexting, Shared Trauma, So much angst, Suicide Attempt, Wolfstar AU, because first we have to get through the angst, drug overdose, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 152,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyMaryMarie/pseuds/MollyMaryMarie
Summary: In the middle of the aftermath left by life-shattering trauma, Sirius finds Remus, someone who understands better than anyone else ever could. And together, they take turns putting each other back together again when the nightmares of their pasts try to tear them apart.(Note: the Non-Con and Violence tags are only there as trigger warnings and indicate PAST and ATTEMPTED events. This does NOT occur between any of the main characters and is ABSOLUTELY not glamorized.)
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 405
Kudos: 364





	1. A Matched Set

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THIS WARNING:  
> While I love this fic with all my heart, and it does have love and comfort and fluff and family and wonder,  
> there are eventually going to be a lot of triggers in this fic, including:  
>  **Suicide attempt  
>  Drug abuse, withdrawal, overdose  
> Sexual, physical, and emotional abuse  
> Torture and kidnapping (referenced)  
> PTSD/physical & emotional trauma  
> Touch aversion**  
> PLEASE tell me if you find a trigger that I have not tagged for, so I can add it to this list.

**_ Sirius  _ **

When he woke, he was breathing smoke. The red numbers on the clock next to his bed were flashing, which meant the electricity had gone out and come back on in the time that he’d been asleep. It meant that his heat had been out long enough that his every weighted exhale formed a silver mist in the air. It also meant he had no fucking idea what time it was.

It didn’t much matter – his life wasn’t exactly on a strict schedule anymore. At the moment, there were only two things that mattered. One – it was dark outside, so he’d at least gotten a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Fan- _fucking_ -tastic. Two – and this one was much more alarming than the first – the dreams were starting again. _Time to increase the dose._

The television was still on. Evidently, it had been on since he fell asleep, or he assumed, as the channel remained unchanged. His grey eyes glanced over to the screen. The program that he had on for the dull murmur of noise in the background had since ended, replaced by the local news. The date and time were stamped next to the station logo on the bottom left of the screen.

Sirius stared blankly at the television, mouth hanging slightly ajar as his eyes drifted indolently toward the bottom of the screen. Friday, October the 4th, eight in the evening. _Shit_.

“Shit,” he repeated aloud, his voice thick with sleep, as he pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes closed. His long, dark hair brushed against his collarbone as it cascaded over his face, and he had to stifle down the sick coming up in his throat from the unexpected contact against his skin. He hadn’t been asleep for a few hours. He’d been asleep for _a day and a half._

Still didn’t matter. No schedule, no life, no family, no friends. He likely could’ve overdosed on the ten Valium he’d popped at three in the morning and not a single person would’ve known he was dead. Hardly a single person even knew where he _lived_. Not anymore.

Pressing his fingertips deep into the sunken sockets of his eyes, he stumbled from the couch where he’d passed out, to his bedroom, where he intended to continue this drug-fueled pre-coma. If he was lucky, he thought, he wouldn’t wake up a second time.

At his bedside table, his eyes, previously half-closed and barely focusing, widened at the sight of the empty amber vial, lying on its side. The previously stifled acid boiled up from his stomach and he raced into the bathroom to empty it. And then stayed there, slipping onto the bathroom floor, waiting to empty it again. He started to pull his hair off his neck to prepare for it.

As his fingers slid along his skin, he ground his teeth at the familiar, sickening sensation it caused. It was to the point that his _own_ touch repulsed him. Hands shaking, he reached for a band, tying his hair up as quickly as he could, grateful that there was no longer _anything_ against his skin. Also, grateful that he’d made it in time to avoid spraying vomit into his hair.

The exhausted breath he let out echoed back at him from the porcelain bowl. He spit hard into the water, choking down another expulsion of his stomach contents. This was bad. Really fucking _bad_. Without those Valium, he’d … he would see _his_ face again.

So much for avoiding the third round of puking. Though, he’d been unconscious for almost two days, there wasn’t that much to expel in the first place. By that third time, there was almost nothing left but bile, leaving a burning, bitter aftertaste on his tongue.

After wiping the cold sweat from his face and brushing the taste from his mouth, he plucked a shirt from his bedroom floor. As he pulled it over his ears, it ruffled the sloppy bun he’d tied his hair into, scattering shorter pieces down in front of his face. On his way to the front door, he swiped at them, violently shoving them behind his ears, if they’d reach. Most didn’t.

“Marlene?” he called as soon as his front door was open, but he knew it was fruitless. The door to Marlene’s flat, across the hall from his own, was only closed if she wasn’t home. And it was closed. He jiggled the handle, just to be sure. Locked, even.

His mobile was still in the back pocket of his jeans from two days earlier. He must’ve slept harder than he realized for it to still be there – of _course_ he’d slept hard, he was fucking _unconscious_ for most of two days. He pressed Marlene’s number. No answer.

For a moment, he stood in the hallway between the two flats, bringing his trembling hands up to cover his face. The tremors spread quickly from his hands, down to his stomach, down to his knees. Panicked tears formed in his eyes, and he pressed his hands harder against his face to try to keep them in. Crying wouldn’t help. It never had before.

“What the fuck do I do,” he mumbled through tight lips. It wasn’t a question, it couldn’t be. There wasn’t anyone around to answer it, anyway.

Marlene usually didn’t let him run out like this. She didn’t know anything about Sirius except that, without the Valium, he would wake up screaming in the middle of night and she would have to break into his flat to get him to stop. It had happened more than once.

Maybe she thought he was dead. If their relationship hadn’t been purely business, then Sirius would probably be hurt. Not like he was her best customer, anyway. All he ever wanted was Valium – occasionally some Ambien, if the nights were particularly bad.

With a deep breath, Sirius slapped both his cheeks overly hard, as a wake-up call and a pep-talk, all in one. If Marlene wasn’t home, he would just have to find her. It didn’t matter that he’d slept for 36 fucking hours. He wouldn’t be able to sleep for even one more without her.

“ ** _Marlene_**?” he shouted, pounding on the door, knowing she wasn’t inside. It didn’t matter – if _anyone_ was inside, they could tell him where she’d gone. When Marlene’s menacing-as-fuck girlfriend came to the door, Sirius reconsidered.

“The fuck do you want?” she asked, words angry but tone indifferent.

“Hey, Dorcas,” Sirius said, trying to hide the quiver in his voice as he nonchalantly leaned against the doorway to the flat. “You seen Marlene?”

Dorcas’ lips formed a tight, thin line, as if she were debating with herself about giving Sirius the information. But she shrugged. “Went to peddle at some rich kid’s party, I think.”

“You, uh …” Sirius glanced down at his fingernails to appear disinterested. “Think you can give me the address of the kid?” Again, Dorcas shrugged. She disappeared from the doorway and came back with a slip of paper, holding it between her fingers like a cigarette. Sirius took it.

“Hope you find her. Looks like you really need to, mate,” she said, wincing as she looked Sirius up and down. Sucking in his lip, Sirius tried to straighten the black jeans, slung low on his hips, that had gotten cocked a little to the side from being in them for the last three days.

“Uh, yeah. Cheers,” Sirius waved as he tried not to race down the hallway. Running would only wear him out that much faster and rattle his already damaged brain that much harder.

He smoked six cigarettes outside of the rich kid’s house. Actually, he was about a block down from the rich kid’s house, but that was really as close as he wanted to be. From where he stood, he could hear the music and the shouting and the laughter. He could see the masses of people flooding in and out of the front door. None of them Marlene.

Lighting up one last cigarette, he made his way into the house, weaving in between the people who seemed to move in a wave, in a rhythm not at all connected to the beat of the music blasting through the stereo. For the most part, he was quite successful at avoiding physical contact, but he knew, inevitably, someone would _touch_ him. He retched at the thought.

Finally, after going through most of the anterior rooms, he spotted Marlene at the back of the house, talking to some random bloke on a white couch. Sirius had to hold back tears of relief. Cigarette still in his lips, he made his way over, pulling his hair from atop his head.

“Marlene, _help_ me,” Sirius croaked, collapsing to his knees in front of the sofa, some of the precariously dangling ash on his cigarette scattering into the carpet.

“Fucking hell, Sirius,” Marlene hissed, starting to reach out to take him by the shoulders, but pulling back abruptly as he violently recoiled before she could even touch him. “How did y–”

“Doesn’t fucking matter. Please tell me you have something. _Anything_.” Sirius could feel hot tears threatening to spill over the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked furiously, sniffling.

“You shouldn’t be _out_ yet,” Marlene said under her breath and Sirius nodded erratically.

“I know, I know that, I know.” Sirius could feel himself starting to go manic, the rate of his speech spiking in time with his heart rate, his hand shaking as he took the cigarette between his fingers. “I fucked up, I know, it won’t happen again. Just … _please_.” A few tears slipped down Sirius’ flushed cheeks and he wiped them away with the back of his trembling hand.

Marlene took a breath, reaching into her shirt pocket. “Take this.” She held her hand out delicately, dangling the pill from it, knowing not to let her skin contact Sirius’. She’d learned that aspect of Sirius quite quickly. Sirius held his palm flat, she dropped the pill onto it.

“What is it?” he asked, dry swallowing it before she even had time to answer.

“Xanax. A change might be better for you.” With a shudder, Sirius burrowed his face down into his hands, only vaguely aware of the still-lit cigarette between his fingers.

“Thank you,” he whispered, words mumbled against his skin. The contact of skin with his lips proved to be too much and he quickly pulled away, only to realize that the bloke sitting on the couch with Marlene was looking at him, quite concerned.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice as soft as the golden brown of his eyes, which were focused rather intently on Sirius. The stranger leaned forward, worried eyes darting across Sirius’ face. As he placed his elbows onto his knees, dipping down to look into Sirius’ eyes, the longer of his light-brown waves tumbled down over his forehead. The stranger reached up to brush the hair from his face, leading Sirius’ eyes to the skin underneath the short, bitten-down fingernails that moved across it. A splattering of sun-drawn freckles dusted over his nose, dotted the corners of his eyes, but many of them were smudged out by the raised, pink scars slashed across them. The more Sirius’ eyes traveled, the more he realized – the scars were _everywhere_. Dug out over the bridge of his nose, gouged through his left eyebrow, sliced from his ear down past his jaw. Even a crescent-shaped scar was hooked through his bottom lip, like it had been pierced. It took more than a moment for Sirius to realize that he’d been _staring_ at this stranger’s face.

However, in the next moment, a drunken party-goer crashed into the back of Sirius, from where he knelt in front of Marlene. It was all he could do to stifle the panicked shout that bubbled up from his throat, but he did. He held it down. Until the drunk used Sirius to get himself back onto his feet, squeezing Sirius softly by the nape of his neck.

Sirius went absolutely solemn – the colour instantly drained from his face, the cigarette dropped from his tremoring hands and into the carpet. He didn’t even recognize that he would have burned the whole fucking house down if Marlene hadn’t stomped it out. All he could register was that seemingly tender squeeze at his shoulder. And the face that had once accompanied it. The face of his nightmares. The face that had him taking ten Valium to kill.

“Sirius?” he could hear Marlene calling him, but her voice sounded so far away. His vision had started to tunnel, focused in on the last thing that he’d seen – the soft, caring expression of the stranger on the white couch. His throat began to burn, his chest felt crushed, like his sternum had been snapped in two and the pieces were piercing into his lungs. He recognized all of this as a sign that he was breathing too hard, too fast, too _much_. But he couldn’t stop.

The next thing Sirius knew, he was standing in the back garden, looking up into starlight and moonlight, breathing in the chilled air. There was a pressure at his chest, he clawed at the collar of his shirt, adjusting the weight of his shoulders to try to lessen it. The pressure vanished.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly heard in front of him. His head snapped down in surprise. The stranger on the white couch – his golden eyes were wide, his hands, just as scarred as his face, held out defensively in front of him. “I had to get you out of there. I’m sorry.” Sirius took an immediate step back. The stranger pulled his hands toward himself, holding them against his chest, looking down at the dewing grass to avoid Sirius’ terrified gaze.

“Did you –” he started to ask but froze. It was obvious that this stranger had led him out here, which meant he had to have _touched_ him, which meant he _wanted_ something. Nobody had ever touched Sirius without _wanting_ something in return. Sirius’ eyes shot chaotically around the yard, toward the windows of the house, searching for Marlene.

“She’s right here,” the stranger said, backing further away and pulling Marlene from somewhere behind him, placing her between himself and Sirius.

“Marlene,” he breathed out a sigh, placing both hands to his forehead.

“It’s alright, Sirius,” she said, nodding slowly, and he subconsciously mirrored it. “This is Remus, he just wanted to help. You had another panic attack.” Swallowing hard, his wild-eyed gaze drifted carefully back over to the stranger. To Remus.

“I, uh … you didn’t … uh, th-thank you.” Sirius sputtered out.

“Listen, it’s not my business, but …” Remus said, the tone of his voice softer than it had been inside, without the music to compete over. There was a breathy, rumbling quality to it that put Sirius at ease – so unlike the voice from his dreams that was high and sharp and biting.

“Can I go home?” Sirius interrupted. To himself, Sirius sounded like a child.

“Are you seeing someone about this?” Remus asked quickly, without making any sudden movements. At the very least, Sirius appreciated the effort this stranger was taking.

“No, I don’t – I don’t need to. I don’t …” Sirius took a breath. “I can’t talk about it.”

Remus smiled. It took Sirius by such surprise that he physically startled at the sight of it. It was soft, just like Remus’ voice, just like his eyes. It wasn’t the smile that Sirius saw on other people’s faces, wasn’t like the smiles he used to be able to fake. This smile had weight. There was misery behind it, Sirius could _see_ it. He knew exactly what misery looked like.

“I gave Marlene my number, in case you change your mind. Support group is on Sunday afternoon.” With another one of those woeful smiles, Remus turned to leave.

“I can’t …” Sirius started feeling tight in the chest again. “I can’t talk to a _shrink_.” Remus turned, for just a moment, nodding. His smile remained, seemed stronger, somehow.

“Then maybe you can just talk to _me_. If you want.” His smile widened, and brightened, and, somehow, the anguish was suddenly gone. And then, so was he.

* * *

**_ Remus _ **

“Why did I let you drag me to this?” Remus groaned, pushing his ever-lengthening hair from just underneath his eyebrow. His mother kept asking him when he was going to cut it, politely, always so politely. Of course, he appreciated it. After everything they’d all been through, he would _never_ take his parents for granted. But it could become exhausting – his parents tiptoeing around him, treating him like his skin was made of eggshells and his bones of dynamite.

“Because you love me,” Peter shrugged. “Besides, it’s just James. You’ve met James loads of times.” Remus closed his eyes to keep from rolling them.

“I met James _once_. It was right after the football match that your team _lost_ , and you were too pissed off to properly introduce us,” Remus huffed, his fingers anxiously twitching at the border of his coat pocket but ultimately deciding he didn’t want to bring the smell of cigarette smoke into someone else’s house. “James probably doesn’t even know who I am.”

Peter immediately smiled. “Right. We’ll see about that.” With a sideward glance, Peter knocked on the front door of James’ house. Good Lord, it was practically a mansion. The door swung wide – James Potter, with his disheveled hair and bespectacled face, appeared, smiling.

“First ones here,” he grinned, pulling Peter into a hug. Remus squirmed awkwardly for only a moment before James wrapped his arms around him, too. His eyes widened, chin perched on James’ shoulder and Peter nodded, a knowing expression. “Hiya, Moony.”

“M-Moony?” Remus stammered out. Sure, Remus was fucking terrible at social cues, but last he checked, he didn’t even _have_ a nickname, much less one he’d given out to this bloke. As James pulled back, and Remus turned to Peter, he noticed a slight blush on Peter’s pale cheeks.

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but James beat him to it. “I never forget a face, but I have … I’m really bloody awful with putting a name to it. Helps if I can remember something about their appearance – their hair or something.” Remus stared.

“And how did you –” James started speaking again. This time, _he_ blushed.

“Oh. The, uh …” He drew a half-circle at his throat, then pointed to Remus. Instinctively, Remus drew his hand up to cover the scar that ran over his jaw. Ever the industrial buffer, Peter nudged Remus’ elbow, the icy calm of his still, blue eyes looking pointedly at Remus. For as long as Remus had known him, Peter had a way of carrying on a whole conversation with one look.

“If it makes you feel any better, he still calls me Wormtail,” Peter said with a disgusted purse of his lips, and James let out a loud snort through his nostrils.

“Why?” Remus wondered aloud as they entered the house.

“You don’t want to know,” they both replied in unison. Walking through the house felt like walking through the university dorms Remus had lived in, extremely briefly, before he moved in with Peter – there were rooms practically stacked on top of each other. He was fairly certain they had gone through a door that had been disguised as a bookcase.

As they moved through the rooms, Remus tried to memorize the path back to the front door. Just in case. He always memorized the quickest way out of _any_ place, just in case.

“You were in my classic literature class, weren’t you?” James asked as they reached a sitting room at the rear of the house, ceiling-high windows looking out into the garden.

“Was I?” Remus asked with a wince. Of all the classes that James could be in, he had to be in _that_ one. But, of course, Remus wouldn’t know James was in that class. Remus tried hard to avoid everyone in that room, since the first day. Well, he tried that in every class, really, so he could share every single one of his classes with James and would still have no fucking idea.

“I think so. With Dr. Flitwick? You always sat in the back.”

“Ah. Yeah, that was probably me,” Remus nodded, pulling his lips into his teeth, knowing it was most definitely him. This was the part of new friendships that he was the worst at – the ‘ _getting to know you.’_ The small talk. He just hoped it wouldn’t extend beyond the small talk.

“It was the only class Remus and I didn’t have together,” Peter said, casting a perfunctory check-up glance in Remus’ direction. This look was directed at Remus anytime Peter was sure that Remus was out of his element, in an unfamiliar and uncomfortable environment. However, this particular brand of _that_ look was glazed with past concern. Remus nodded slowly.

“Were you there on the first day of class?” James asked, and Remus immediately stiffened. The subject was bound to come up, though he foolishly hoped it had been forgotten. 

“Not very much of it,” Remus replied with a sigh. For a moment, James furrowed his hazel eyes underneath the sharp glare of his square glasses, sunlight bouncing off the lenses as the sun dipped below the high windows that overlooked the garden.

“Oh, _that_ was –” He stopped suddenly, eyes meeting Remus’. 

A sharp scoff ricocheted from the back of Remus’ throat. “ _That_ was why I don’t usually take classes without Pete.” It suddenly felt like there were empty pockets of dry air in Remus’ mouth, and he swallowed to try to get rid of them. It only worsened.

Back when Remus first started university, he’d been assigned to a dorm, shared by Peter Pettigrew. Attending university, in and of itself, was a big deal, but moving out of his parents’ home in Wales was the hardest part. He’d done all his previous schooling from home.

Peter became his security blanket, even when they moved out of the dorms and into their own flat. Pete was the one Remus clung to on those days when his anxiety ran so high that he felt like there was an iron brand burning a hole in the pit of his stomach. He and Peter shared every class, as long as they could. When they got to classic literature, Peter had taken it as part of a jump-start program in secondary school. He didn’t need it. Remus had to take it alone.

For all that Remus had gone through in his comparatively short life, there were a great many things that triggered extremely negative emotional memories. One of those things was darkness. Not even total darkness – it was often just a slight, unexpected darkening of a room.

It probably would’ve been fine if there had been more windows in the room. It likely would’ve been fine if there had been some allusion to shutting off every light in the room to better project the slides against the wall. Maybe it would’ve been fine if the girl behind him hadn’t screamed. The culmination of events resulted in Remus Lupin having one of the most aggressive fucking panic attacks he’d ever had – and Peter wasn’t there to remind him to breathe.

In other words, fifty people he had to spend the next four months with watched him scramble from his chair, shove himself into the furthest corner of the room with his face buried in his knees, with his whole body shaking to the point of exhaustion. James was one of them.

“I overslept that day. I wasn’t there, but I heard –” James said softly. Alright, James _wasn’t_ one of them. But he’d heard about it. That was usually all it took, anyway. “Well, now you have me, too. Right, Moony?” James’ voice brightened as he reached out, gently squeezing Remus’ forearm, with a clear and promising smile. Remus stared, feeling a measure of shocked breath slipping silently from his lips. This was not the response he was expecting.

If anyone from that classroom that day even looked at him, there was blind terror in their expression, like they worried he would return _any day now_ with a vest full of homemade explosives to murder them all. And James Potter looked at him like he had let _Remus_ down by not being there to get him through it in the first place. Who the fuck _was_ this kid?

“Right,” Peter replied for Remus, beaming. Oddly, Remus felt like beaming, too.

The party was borderline torture. Remus was so far out of his comfort zone that he didn’t even remember where it had been in the first place. It was going to take several days of deliberate isolation to undo the anxiety that had nestled into the dark corner of his brain, screaming like a forgotten kettle on an over-hot stove. He would have to _live_ on antacids to soothe the raw heat from the stomach acid churning up into his throat.

He remained devoutly attached to the white couch that James had left him on hours earlier. Peter mingled in and out, coming in to make sure Remus was, at the very least, not trying to escape over the privacy fence in the back garden. At least James had good taste in music.

While people-watching – which was, in all honesty, scanning to make sure no one was paying him any attention, just the way he wanted – he noticed a red-headed girl kept glancing in his direction. Her face was vaguely familiar, but Remus couldn’t place her. Must share some class with Remus – not that he would know outright. She was just another face that blended into the background. When she wasn’t side eyeing him, she was dancing with James. Eventually, as Remus knew she would, the red-haired girl came over, pulling James behind her.

“Remus, right?” she said and, with a sharp pull of breath through Remus’ teeth, he began to recall where he knew her face. It echoed through forgotten – or, rather, blocked – memory.

She’d been there – the first day of classic lit. She’d seen his giant fucking melt down. Not only that, she had been the one to talk him out of it. Remembering her face was like remembering a dream he hadn’t had in years. But it was suddenly there, plain as day. He could see her kneeling in front of him in the dark corner of the classroom that day, speaking softly, asking his name. Vaguely, he remembered giving it. And she had given hers.

“Lily,” he said, voice suddenly hoarse. She smiled softly.

“I wasn’t sure you would remember me,” she replied. Remus watched the muscles of her forearm flex as she squeezed James hand lightly within her own.

“I almost didn’t.” Remus cleared his throat, glancing at James.

“Lily, this is my Moony, the one I’ve been telling you about,” James stepped in, reaching out to hold Remus’ shoulder, the way he had done when he and Peter first arrived. Remus couldn’t help but smile at how comfortable he was beginning to feel around James – it may have had something to do with the way James spoke about him. _My_ Moony. It felt like belonging.

“Moony,” Lily said, that same quiet smile on her lips. “It suits you.”

“I … I ran out without saying thank you,” Remus looking poignantly at her, trying to convey how much she aided him that day. Her smile remained, brightened substantially.

“No need,” Lily said, and Remus began to put together how, after that first day, Lily sat next to him for every class after that. His smile began to brighten, as well.

“Lils, there you are!” A bright falsetto voice rang over the crowd, over the music. A slender blonde pranced her way over, snapping Lily up into a hug before Lily even saw her.

“Marlene!” Lily laughed, her voice musical and full. “What are you doing here?”

“I promise I’m not … working,” the blonde replied with a wink. With a surreptitious scratch to the back of his head, Remus looked away. He’d rather not know what this _Marlene_ was promising not to do at this party where he was currently trapped. “Just wanted to see you.”

“Behave,” Lily warned, but smiled. “But have fun. Keep Remus company while I make James supervise the more … rowdy of the bunch.” She turned her grin to Remus as Marlene settled next to him on the couch. Remus tried very hard to smother a wince behind his lips.

“Moony, I’ll come back for you!” James shouted as Lily pulled him away. Though Remus smiled, he wondered if James would be as fond of him without the alcohol in his belly.

“So,” the blonde said, turning to him on the couch. “Is it Remus? Or Moony?” The look in her eyes had Remus a bit unsettled. It was a look that most men probably would’ve been aroused to see on a beautiful woman’s face. Remus was definitely not like most men.

“Only James calls me Moony,” Remus quipped, his voice a little sharp, a little biting. The girl seemed to take notice, a testy rise appearing in her eyebrow.

“ _Only_ James, huh?” she hummed, nudging Remus’ elbow. “Does Lily know?”

“I didn’t mean …” he started to explain, but before he could get out another word, there was someone knelt at the woman’s feet. Ink black hair billowed like smoke down over his face, only the lit end of a cigarette jutted through. The actual smoke trailed from the other end, from a mouth, hidden somewhere in the dark, matted waves of his hair.

“Marlene,” the voice behind the curtain breathed out. The voice sounded like it had once been smooth, melodious, but had been scraped raw with nicotine and strain. “Help me,” the stranger begged, voice shifting to thin and treacherous, while discarded ash from the butt of his cigarette drifted down in between the expensive carpet fibers.

“Fucking hell, Sirius,” Marlene said, her voice tight, tongue pressed to the back of her teeth. She made a move to hold this stranger Sirius’ shaking shoulders, but she barely even got her hands from her lap before Sirius sharply retracted. She pulled her hands back, wincing.

As he moved, Remus finally got a moderate look at his face – it was all sharp, aristocratic angles and pale, sunken skin. Without leaning over to look him full in the face, Remus saw the dark red rings around Sirius’ eyes, like he hadn’t slept in days. It sounded like Marlene started to ask how Sirius had found her there, but he interrupted, whole body trembling.

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” he growled. His voice rolled up his throat, gritty. “Please tell me you have something. Anything.” His eyes glistened, he blinked rapidly to clear it. He brought a shaking hand up to press underneath his nose, pulling in a deep breath through it.

“You shouldn’t be out yet,” the woman hissed, and Remus glanced nervously back and forth between them. So, _that_ was what she was promising Lily not to do.

“I know, I know that, I know,” the man named Sirius rattled off manically. Remus bared his teeth. This was withdrawal, if he’d ever seen it. “I fucked up, I know, it won’t happen again. Just, please.” He reached up to pull the cigarette from his lips, fingers trembling, and a couple unguarded tears slid down his cheeks – cheeks tinted with the barest of pinks.

“Take this.” Marlene took a baggie out of her pocket, fishing a single tablet from within and holding it out for Sirius. Remus took note that Sirius let her drop it into his hand instead of letting her touch him. But he didn’t hesitate a single second before popping it into his mouth.

“What is it?” he asked afterward.

“Xanax,” she answered under her breath. “A change might be better for you.” Whatever she had been supplying him before, it evidently hadn’t been Xanax. With a deep breath, Sirius buried his face into his hands, letting out the air in his lungs through his fingers. The cigarette still tucked between his fingers glowed red with the renewed oxygen being blown against it.

“Thank you,” he mumbled against his skin, but he quickly wrenched his face from his hands, suddenly looking rather distressed by the contact it resulted in. As he did, his gaze finally fell onto Remus, who was surely looking at him with a panicked, wide-eyed expression.

Remus said the only thing he knew to say at a time like this. “Are you alright?” On instinct, he leaned forward, but made sure not to touch him. With this new closeness, Remus was finally able to look this stranger full in the face. What he saw was unexpected.

It wasn’t the face of a long-term drug-addict underneath that cascade of black hair. The drugs had dulled some of the brighter characteristics of this face, sure, but that wasn’t the base of his features. Hidden within the dark circles around his eyes was a swirling, silver pool of fright and mistrust, but they were also softened with loneliness and regret. The heavy tint to his sunken eyes and the dark shadow of being several days behind in shaving the sharp curves of his jaw were offset by the ashen pallor of his skin. Except, there was a pink undertone underneath his high cheekbones, Remus wasn’t sure if it was from the agitation of withdrawal or from the biting breeze of approaching winter outside. In his fingers, the cigarette still dangled, forgotten, the filtered end stamped down flat, like it had been caught between a rather unexpected clench of teeth. The veil of raven-black hair swayed over his gaunt collarbones, exposed through the over-stretched neck of his black t-shirt. In fact, Remus noticed, everything he had on was black.

The stranger known as Sirius seemed to lean in, lips parting, as if to speak, but in the very same moment, a party guest stumbled backward, tumbling right into Sirius’ back. An audible gasp slipped through Marlene’s lips and she instinctively reached out to steady Sirius but kept her distance. The look on Sirius’ face was stiff and rigid. As he closed his eyes for a moment, it was obvious that he was coaching himself into breathing steadily, though shakily.

Everything changed when that clumsy party guest put his hand back onto Sirius’ shoulder, squeezing a silent apology into his skin. Instantly, Sirius froze, silver eyes blanking out into cinder grey – what colour was left in his face was sucked dry. The tremor in his hands became a quake and the cigarette in his fingers dropped into the carpet.

“Shit,” Marlene exhaled, crushing it with the toe of her shoe to keep the embers from catching. Quickly, she looked back up, holding her hands in front of her. “Sirius?” she called.

Everything stilled for a moment as Remus looked into Sirius’ eyes, which were darting erratically around the room, unable to focus on anything in front of them. This, Remus imagined, was what Lily must’ve seen in _his_ eyes, that day in classic literature. Sirius’ chest began to heave, sinking too deep with every breath out and rising too high with every breath in.

“Sirius, slow down,” Remus said calmly, having picked up on the _no-touching rule_ , but thinking of no other way to regulate his breathing. Carefully, he took Sirius’ hand in his own and, when Sirius didn’t pull away, Remus placed Sirius’ hand against his own chest, taking full breaths in and letting them out slowly. “I’m sorry I have to touch you, Sirius, but _breathe_ with me.”

At first, it almost seemed to be working – Remus could hear Sirius pull air into his lungs, pushing it out through half-closed lips, both in time with the movement of Remus’ chest. His skin stopped vibrating, his eyes stopped their chaotic motion. They began to focus on Remus, so Remus let Sirius’ hand slip from his grasp, let it fall away from his chest.

When it did, a sickening swallow snapped through the caverns of Sirius’ throat. He strained to suck in breath that wasn’t moving in – the lines of his throat sharpened as his muscles fruitlessly struggled to force air into his lungs.

Without thinking, Remus leapt from the couch, forgetting all the rules that he knew Sirius would otherwise have him follow to the letter. Remus wrapped one tight arm around Sirius’ waist and slung Sirius’ other arm over his neck. With a little struggle, he dragged Sirius outside, standing him underneath silver moonlight. He put his hands to Sirius’ face.

“Fuck, Sirius, please. _Breathe_.” Pressing his thumbs into the caverns underneath Sirius’ highborn cheekbones in an attempt to get a response, Remus watched as Sirius’ eyes flutter closed at his touch. For someone so averse to touch, it seemed he was rather starved of it. A quiet, aching breath slipped from Sirius’ lips, bringing a blush to the surface of Remus’ cheeks.

One hand slid down over Sirius’ jaw, along his throat, ending up pressed flat against Sirius’ chest in an almost autonomic response. So reflexive, in fact, that Remus wasn’t even sure why he’d done it. He tried not to notice how sharply the bones of Sirius’ ribs were palpable from underneath his shirt as Sirius’ fight to breathe began to subside. 

Sirius’ eyes began to open, his breathing finally back on a normal rhythm, and Remus realized as Sirius began tugging at the collar of his t-shirt, that his hands were still pressed to Sirius’ body. Quickly, he pulled away, holding his hands out in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” Remus immediately apologized, and Sirius’ manic gaze shot down to meet Remus’. He looked like a wild animal. “I had to get you out of there. I’m sorry.” The first thing Sirius did was back away, spreading some distance between them. In response, Remus held his hands to his chest, as if to assure Sirius he wouldn’t touch him again.

“Did you …” he started to say. Remus knew what he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask if Remus had touched him. There was a pang of guilt in Remus’ chest. Before he could come clean, Sirius’ breathing began to race again as he searched the yard for Marlene.

“She’s right here,” he said, reaching back to grab Marlene’s hand, who had followed them closely when Remus had practically carried Sirius outside.

“Marlene,” Sirius whimpered, voice small and fragile. He put both hands over his head.

“It’s alright, Sirius,” she assured him in a low voice. She nodded, and he nodded back, more for himself than for her. “This is Remus, he just wanted to help. You had another panic attack.” It was only then that Remus began to piece together this story. Remus already knew Sirius got anti-anxiety meds from Marlene. He wasn’t using them to get high, he was using them to _cope_. He was using them to stay _alive_. Remus let out a short breath. _This_ he understood.

Sirius timidly met his gaze. He stumbled through some syllables, half-composed as words, ending with a relatively whole ‘ _thank you_.’ Suddenly, Remus wished he could hold him.

“Listen,” Remus said, on a preparative, inward breath. “It’s not my business, but …”

“Can I go home?” Sirius asked suddenly, not looking up at Remus. And Remus had never heard a voice so broken and defeated and diminutive in all his life.

“Are you seeing someone about this?” Remus asked, before he could lose his nerve and before he could lose Sirius forever. He was getting himself much more involved in this than was probably wanted, or needed, but everything about this was too painfully familiar to let go.

“No, I don’t – I don’t need to. I don’t …” Sirius took a breath. “I can’t talk about it.” Remus lowered his head – it was just like he thought. Sirius hadn’t said there wasn’t anything wrong. He had actually admitted that there was something _very_ wrong. Something he couldn’t say out loud.

Despite the horror and the sadness enveloping the boy in front of him, Remus smiled. It would be a hard road for Sirius, Remus knew that better than anyone. But for the first time, Remus started to wonder if this wasn’t something like fate. Normally, he would have never come to this party. He barely even knew James, certainly didn’t know Marlene. Yet, for some reason, he ended up meeting the one person in the world who needed him the most.

“I gave Marlene my number,” Remus said, glancing over at Marlene. She nodded. “In case you change your mind. Support group is on Sunday afternoon.” Before he could turn to leave, Sirius’ small voice rang out over the songs of crickets hiding in the roses.

“I can’t,” Sirius said, shortly. “I can’t talk to a shrink.” Again, Remus smiled. Whether Sirius would go to therapy or not, at this point, wasn’t the mission.

“Then maybe you can just talk to me,” Remus grinned. “If you want.”

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

“Give me ten minutes, I’ll take you home,” Marlene said, leaving Sirius to smoke another cigarette on the front lawn as she raced back into the house. Despite how he’d been ‘ _casually’_ glancing around for sign of Remus, he hadn’t seen him again.

Instead, a tall, gangly kid with thick glasses and tousled, dark hair came and stood next to him. Warily, Sirius’ eyes shot in his direction. The bloke, who looked about Sirius’ age, patted down his pockets in search of something he didn’t find. He turned to Sirius.

“Got a light, mate?” he asked. Sirius stifled the automatic snarl in his lip, shifting his weight to the foot opposite of this stranger to widen the space between them.

“Sure,” he responded on an inward breath, despite himself, holding the lighter out underneath a pinched thumb and forefinger. He thought it odd that this stranger seemed careful to take the lighter by the bottom, avoiding the touch of Sirius’ fingers completely.

“I’m James Potter.” He offered his name as he lit the cigarette between his teeth, but Sirius noticed that he didn’t really breathe it in. Not hungrily, the way Sirius was.

“Sirius.” He didn’t give his last name. He _never_ gave his last name. Even the name on his lease was fake. With narrowed eyes, Sirius continued watching him. There was something off here. James stood there with the cigarette in his fingers, not taking a single puff.

“Are you friends with Mo-” He stopped, restarted. “With Remus?” he asked, his voice easy, but his eyes darting nervously over to Sirius. Sirius took in a deep breath of smoke.

“No,” he answered shortly, for a moment considering rephrasing that to ‘ _not yet_.’ His heart had starting to pound as he wondered what was taking Marlene so bloody long. “I’m here with Marlene.” _Sort of_. The look that crossed over James’ face was impossible for Sirius to decipher. It was hard to tell what he _wanted_ from Sirius. But everyone wanted _something_.

“Okay, listen, I’m bad with subtlety, so I’m just going to ask,” James blurted out, all in one breath, leaving Sirius to shift his weight even further away. “Are you alright?”

Sirius swallowed. Why did so many people keep asking him that today? Probably because he slipped into a drug-induced coma for three days and then showed up to a stranger’s house, begging his drug dealer to give him a fix. Yeah, that was probably why.

“I’m …” he paused, “… fine?” It was more of a question, directed at himself. Of course, he knew he wasn’t fine, he was very fucking far from fine. James took a breath, as if starting a sentence, but it stopped short as he held it for a moment. Sirius looked over cautiously.

“It’s just that people who are fine don’t usually show up to parties barefoot.” Quickly, Sirius jerked his head down. _Dammit_. He’d left his flat with no shoes. Of course.

“I … that’s just … I didn’t really come for the _party_ ,” Sirius tried to explain, his words trailing off as he busied his lips with the cigarette still between them.

“I know. You came to find Marlene,” James stated with certainty in his voice. “I also know you had a panic attack on my back lawn.” _Ah_. This was the _rich kid_. What was he so worried about? Was he going to try to blame Sirius for fucking up the vibe?

“I’m sorry, I –” Sirius started, but James interrupted.

“Do you need a place to stay, Sirius?”

“ _What_? No,” Sirius replied instantly. Of course, if his Uncle Alphard hadn’t left him everything, Sirius _wouldn’t_ have a place to stay, at all. But there was still some inheritance money left over. It was enough to last him until he could deal with everything. Get over what happened, move on with his life, disappear off the face of the earth. Whichever it would be.

Not to mention, Sirius couldn’t live with another person. How often would there be an accidental brush of skin? How many nights would Sirius keep them up with his unending nightmares? No, he _had_ to live in isolation. It was the only way he could stay alive.

“Could I borrow your phone?” James suddenly asked. Jesus, he was all over the place.

“Uh, sure?” Sirius cocked an eyebrow as he pulled his mobile from his back pocket, cigarette still dangling from his lips. James had the phone for barely two minutes.

“I’ve sent myself your number. Is it okay if I check in with you every now and then?” For longer than he thought was considered normal, Sirius blinked dumbly at James. _Why_? Why was everyone at this party so concerned with his well-being? Couldn’t they all just leave him to rot in what he felt was his own self-created misery? His parents certainly had.

Finally, Sirius realized that the cigarette in James’ fingers remained completely unsmoked. James had asked him for a light for a cigarette that he didn’t intend to smoke. Which meant that this rich kid, James Fucking Potter, used it as an excuse, just to _talk_ to Sirius. For some reason that Sirius couldn’t pin down, that was comforting. Endearing, even.

“Yeah, alright,” Sirius replied, looking carefully at this stranger. His glasses reflected the streetlights around them, making it look like a shimmering, hazel galaxy was tucked away inside his gaze. When he smiled, satisfied and pleased, his high, round cheekbones pressed up against his eyes, creasing together the freckles at the corners, shifting his glasses a little higher up the bridge of his nose. This unfettered smile, his eyes shining in the darkness, and the way his thick, dark hair stood on end, likely from someone running their fingers through it, made it look like he was some wild creature of the night. An untamed, but gentle animal. With horns. No _, antlers_.

Just then, Marlene came from the house, arm-in-arm with a redhead, whose green eyes were on James as soon as he was in view. The girls hugged their goodbye and Marlene gave Sirius a watchful look, assessing his condition without giving it away. Sirius gave a single nod.

“How do you feel about talking on the phone?” James called as they walked away. For just a moment, Sirius let himself smile. Who the fuck _was_ this kid?

“I’d rather text,” Sirius mumbled back, turning to look at James. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a smile quite like the one he saw on that rich kid’s face.

“Jesus, Sirius, it’s fucking freezing in here,” Marlene said as she opened the door to Sirius’ flat for him. He hadn’t noticed. Of course, he hadn’t been conscious to notice. The cold in his flat was probably why he hadn’t noticed he had run out of his flat without shoes – his feet couldn’t tell the difference. The rest of him hardly could, either.

“I guess the heat is out,” he shrugged as Marlene peered at said thermostat on the wall. She made a strange sound of surprise at whatever number she saw there.

“You _guess_?” she bellowed, adding in an overly dramatic shiver. “I’m calling the super right now. It’s warmer outside than it is in here and it’s _October_.” She stared, like Sirius was going to have some revelation over what month it very obviously was. He just stood, staring.

“Is he going to have to come _in here_?” Sirius wondered, gritting his teeth behind his lips. He didn’t have to hide his feelings with Marlene, but sometimes he thought she would get irritated with how _far_ his paranoia went. This time, her expression went soft.

“If he comes tonight, I’ll be here. Don’t worry.” While she was on the call, Sirius pulled out his own mobile, looking through the messages. There were only two conversations – one was Marlene. The other went to a number he didn’t recognize, which meant it went to James.

He opened the message. Inside, all the text said was ‘ _Padfoot_.’ His eyebrows furrowed for only a second before he realized that James was referring to Sirius’ bare feet. Was this a nickname? What _for_? Sirius had _just_ given James his name. Surely, he hadn’t forgotten it that quickly. If it was a nickname, Sirius wasn’t sure if it was even a positive one. It was kind of a jab.

Either way, Sirius tapped the number, saving it to his mobile. Two could play at this bizarre game – he saved James’ number under the name ‘ _Prongs_.’ Whatever this was, it wasn’t unpleasant. Even these little digs at each other sparked something in Sirius that had long been dead. Something that reminded him of someone he would’ve once, _had_ once, done anything to protect. Someone his parents had poisoned against him.

The thought of Regulus brought tears to Sirius’ eyes. At least he knew he had done what he could to make sure his little brother had a life that he wanted, no matter the cost. Before Sirius could dwell on that _cost_ , Marlene spoke.

“They can’t send someone up until tomorrow. You can crash at my place.” She made the offer with very little inflection in her tone, knowing what Sirius’ answer would be.

“I’m fine here.” With a sigh, she nodded.

“Let me at least bring you a space heater.” There wasn’t a spare moment for him to argue – Marlene was across the hall and back before his mouth even opened.

“Thanks,” he said, lingering on the word as he tried to determine the best way to ask Marlene to give him more Valium. She’d already done so much. Before he could even get the words out, Marlene already knew, slipping two pills into his jacket pocket. But _only_ two.

“See if you sleep on the Xanax I gave you,” Marlene sighed, eyeing Sirius’ nervous glances. “I’ll get more Valium, if it doesn’t work. But I’m putting you on a fucking schedule.” She pointed at him, baring her teeth. “No more ten at a bleeding time.”

“Okay,” he whispered, looking down at the floor.

“Oh, and here.” She fished around in her jacket pocket, pulling out her mobile and flash-typing on the screen for mere milliseconds before pocketing it again. “If you’re interested.”

“What –” Sirius started, but Marlene left him questioning, letting the door fall shut behind her. The sound of her door closing came soon after, followed by the buzzing of his own mobile, from his back pocket. With furrowed eyebrows, he glanced at the screen. It showed a text from Marlene. The message contained another foreign number. With a name. _Remus_.

The Xanax didn’t work. For several hours, he laid still, waiting to fall asleep. Sleep never came. Of course, the nightmares hadn’t started back up, so at least he had that. That didn’t mean he didn’t see that face every time he closed his eyes. Only the ten Valium at a time had gotten rid of that, but Marlene wasn’t going to let him do that again.

At around two in the morning, the face of his mobile lit the room. He squinted his eyes to look at the screen – it was a text from James. _Prongs_. When he opened the message, blinking violently from the intrusion of light into his eyes, he tried hard to quell the smile trying to form over his face. The text was in all caps.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Prongs:** **OH MY GOD I FORGOT TO CHECK ON YOU**

_Padfoot_ : I lived

**Prongs: THIS IS JAMES BY THE WAY**

_Padfoot_ : I figured that part out, thanks

**Prongs:** **SO YOU’RE ALIVE**

_Padfoot_ : evidently

**Prongs:** **THANK GOD**

_Padfoot_ : why are you still in all caps?

**Prongs: I NEEDED TO CONVEY THE**

**EMERGENTNESS OF THE SITUATION**

_Padfoot_ : the word you’re looking for is

urgency. You’re still in all caps

**Prongs:** **NOW I’M JUST EXCITED**

**THAT YOURE TEXTING BACK**

_Padfoot_ : I’m not an arsehole, you know

**Prongs: no, I know. I just didn’t get your number**

**with your permission, really, so it would be**

**fair if you wanted to ignore me.**

_Padfoot_ : can I start now?

**Prongs: PADFOOT PLEASE**

_Padfoot_ : I’m kidding, Prongs.

**Prongs:** **wtf is Prongs??????**

_Padfoot_ : if you insist on a nickname for me

then you’re required to have one yourself

**Prongs: but why Prongs**

_Padfoot_ : because you have really bad hair

**Prongs:**

_Padfoot_ : did you mean to send a blank text?

**Prongs:** **I was in shock that you would**

**tell me I have bad hair**

_Padfoot_ : you do

**Prongs: well you have bad … eyebrows**

_Padfoot_ : I know for a fact that my eyebrows

are exquisite, actually

**_________________________________________________________**

Sirius gritted his teeth at his own comment. It sounded too much like _himself_ – like the old self that he left behind and locked in a basement, deep at the bottom of his psyche. He could never be that person again. For his own sake.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Prongs: they are, I lied. Did you talk to**

**Mo – Remus yet?**

_Padfoot_ : do you realize that you just put a

verbal stutter into a written text?

**Prongs: I do realize that, yes**

_Padfoot_ : why?

**Prongs: Remus has a nickname too,**

**but I can’t tell you what it is**

_Padfoot_ : maybe I already know it. Maybe

Remus likes me more than he likes you

**Prongs: he probably does**

_Padfoot_ : what does that even mean

**Prongs: I put my foot in my mouth today sorta**

_Padfoot_ : that sounds like a talent

**Prongs: with how often I do it, it must be**

**_________________________________________________________**

The thought of this _Remus_ stirred something unusual in Sirius’ chest. Maybe it was the way Remus had helped him at the party – Marlene had told him how quickly Remus acted to try to ease Sirius’ panic. Even though Sirius knew Remus had touched him (Marlene had told him that too, a detailed recall of all the places that Remus’ hands had been), it somehow didn’t quite bother him as much as he expected it to. Remus had done what he had to, and he’d saved him.

More than once, Sirius opened a new message, with Remus’ newly saved mobile number as the recipient. Each time, he stared at the name underneath his thumbs, and it filled him with absolute dread. What would he say? Any social skill he had in his previous life was obliterated by the massive amounts of Valium he doped himself up on every night. Over and over, he discarded unwritten texts, convincing himself that this was all too soon. Remus, James, _all_ of it.

However, he texted James again. Maybe just to spite himself. Just to spite his past.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Padfoot_ : you didn’t do it with me

**Prongs: no, with you I just sounded like a creep**

_Padfoot_ : how so?

**Prongs: I literally asked you to come**

**live with me**

_Padfoot_ : I didn’t realize you were

coming onto me

**Prongs: OH GOD I REALLY WASN’T**

_Padfoot_ : I’m kidding

**Prongs: this is exactly the kind of thing I mean**

_Padfoot_ : what did you say to Remus?

**Prongs: I can’t tell you**

_Padfoot_ : that bad?

**Prongs: maybe. It has to do with his nickname**

**WHICH IS A SECRET**

_Padfoot_ : why is it a secret, again?

**Prongs: because that was what I fucked up**

_Padfoot_ : did you give him a terrible name?

**Prongs: I might have?? I’m not sure**

_Padfoot_ : how do you not know

**Prongs: it’s a great name, but based on**

**a questionable feature**

_Padfoot_ : you fucking nicknamed him

because of the scars, didn’t you

**Prongs: FUCK I DID HE HATES ME**

_Padfoot_ : he probably doesn’t hate you

**Prongs: HOW WOULD I KNOW HE’S VERY QUIET**

_Padfoot_ : just ask him???

**Prongs: I’LL ASK PETE, HE’LL KNOW**

_Padfoot_ : who’s Pete?

**Prongs: mutual friend. You really need to start**

**hanging out with us. It’s hard to talk to you about**

**everyone I know when you don’t know them**

**_________________________________________________________**

Sirius didn’t quite understand why James Potter was suddenly so attached to him. He especially didn’t understand what was even remotely likeable about himself that this apparently popular uni kid would want to continue talking to him, especially after how cold he’d been at the party. None of it made sense. There had to be a motive. There was always a motive.

And yet – Sirius couldn’t stop himself from letting himself get attached right back.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Padfoot_ : yeah. Maybe I should.

**_________________________________________________________**

**_ Remus  _ **

There had been no word from Sirius, so far. Remus tried not to be disappointed. In truth, he wondered if Marlene had even remembered to give Sirius his number. So much had happened that evening, it wouldn’t have been hard to forget. Remus began to regret leaving it in Marlene’s hands, rather than getting Sirius’ number directly, for himself.

They had stayed at James’ so long after the party that he insisted they crash there for the night. Lily had stayed, too, but Remus thought that might have been fairly typical. The four of them stayed up into the night, trading stories and laughing and talking shit. Sirius came up in more than one conversation, and Remus tried to keep the worry from his expression each time.

“I think I forced him to be friends with me,” James said with a sardonic laugh, his cheeks momentarily filling with a flush. Remus knew that feeling. He’d done much the same to Sirius.

“Isn’t that what you did with me?” Remus smiled, the edge of a glass to his lips. For a moment, James’ face went a little pale, his mind obviously reeling as he considered what to say in return. Of course, Remus _knew_ that James had been beating himself up about giving Remus the name _Moony_ , on a very distinct physical flaw that Remus was a tad self-conscious about. Despite that, James had called him Moony all night, as if in some attempt to normalize it, so that Remus would forget entirely where the name had come from. Except, he wasn’t going to forget.

But the name _was_ growing on him. It was in the way James _said_ it – affectionate and warm and tender. Maybe it had started with James trying to force Remus to forget the origin of the name, but it had developed into something else. Into something that Remus could own, into something that Remus could _be_. Something that reminded him that, yeah, he’d never be rid of the scars, but they were part of who he was. While the scars hadn't shaped him as a person, they'd been there as he'd shaped himself. Intentional or not, James used those scars to remind Remus that the scars belonged to _him_ , and not the other way around. James used those intensely negative reminders to gift Remus with something positive. A _name_. It was definitely growing on him.

Before Remus could assure James that he’d been kidding, the colour rapidly returned to James’ face, followed by the fullest, brightest smile that Remus had ever seen.

“Are you saying you’re my _friend_ , Moony?” James asked, eyes wide with excitement as Lily rolled her eyes animatedly. Her whole head rolled back, in fact.

“Oh, fuck, I’m really going to regret admitting that,” Remus laughed, letting a groan fall out with each vowel. The smile on James’ face remained for only a moment before it was replaced by a starkly contrasted expression – teeth clenched, eyes widened even further. 

“Shit! I forget to text Padfoot!” he shouted, scrambling for his mobile.

“Who?” Pete slurred drowsily, lounging face-down on the sofa next to Remus.

“Sirius,” James said absently, typing rapidly onto the screen. At Sirius’ name, Remus felt an unexpected pitch to his previously steady heart rate. He knew instantly what that little flicker meant, he’d seen it coming. This was bad. _Really_ fucking bad.

“You …” Remus tried to slow his voice. “You have his number?”

“I didn’t tell you?” James didn’t look up, but Remus was trying not to notice that Lily _did_ , her attention suddenly directed to _Remus_. “I kinda conned him into giving it up.”

“Is he alright?” Remus asked, swallowing to keep his voice from rising. Lily narrowed her eyes – not speaking, but certainly not looking away.

“I’m sure he is. I just wanted to make sure he made it home.” This time, James did look up, and Lily’s expression tempered, almost on purpose. Before James could say more, the phone buzzed in his hand and he looked back down. Remus waited, hoping he would share.

Luckily, Lily asked the question for him. “I take it that means he made it.”

“Yeah,” James said. His face was soft again, just like the first time Remus had seen it this way. ‘ _Well, now you have me, too, right, Moony?_ ’ he heard James’ voice say in his head, as clearly as he’d said it before. It was like James Potter deliberately went out of his way to collect people he _knew_ were broken. Like he made it his own personal mission to repair them. And, from what Remus could tell, it might as well have been his goddamn _profession_ because Remus hadn’t felt this safe, this included, this _himself_ since he met Peter.

“Why am I the only one who didn’t meet Padfoot?” Peter mumbled through the couch cushions and Remus realized how enamored he’d become with these nicknames James had given to them. Not just his, but all of them, collectively. Through these ridiculous little names, they had become banded together. Remus never wanted to stop being _Moony_.

“To be fair, Pete, I met him before he was Padfoot, so I don’t think it counts,” Remus shrugged, and Peter puffed out a muffled cackle, buried in the fabric underneath him.

“Is he going to group with us on Sunday?” Peter asked, eyes still closed.

“I hope so,” Remus said, mostly to himself, under his breath. Again, Lily’s attention was drawn to him, glancing at him from her periphery. When he mistakenly met her gaze, a single, smart eyebrow rose in the form of a silent question that Remus didn’t know the answer to.

“Oh my God, you guys,” James said on a sudden outward breath. When he looked up, his eyes were shining behind his thick, square-framed glasses. “He gave me a nickname.”

“Oh, shit!” Peter shouted, suddenly wide awake. “He’s one of us now!” The laugh from Peter’s lips uncovered a grin from Remus’ lips that he tried to conceal but couldn’t. 

“ _What_?” Lily snapped, tearing her gaze from Remus. “ _I_ don’t have a nickname. Does that mean I’m not one of _you_?” James shot an amused look over to Remus, who tried to return it. 

“Of course you do,” James huffed. “You’re my Lily-flower.”

Lily groaned. “That is the worst nickname I’ve ever heard.” James rolled his eyes.

“Well?” Remus asked. All eyes diverted to him. “What is it? Your nickname?” Immediately, James’ expression went sour – shoulders slumped, head dropped, voice lowered.

“Prongs.”

“Damn, Padfoot really _is_ one of us,” Pete said, turning the corners of his mouth down as he nodded to show how impressed he was. “He’s already got the theme down and everything.”

“There’s a _theme_?” Lily scoffed, looking irritated, most likely because her impromptu nickname didn’t fit into said theme. The tight smile on James’ face grew.

“Mine doesn’t fit the theme either, Lil,” Remus assured her.

“What _is_ the theme?” she shouted, exasperation in her tone. James snorted.

“Animal-based. Moony, I’m going to assign you as a wolf, so you fit the theme.”

“Thank you, Prongs.” Remus didn’t try to stifle the grin. “Speaking of Prongs – and Padfoot, for that matter – what’s the story?”

James stared blankly at Remus. “You really didn’t notice?” Again, Lily watched him closely, watched the blush creep up from the base of his throat.

“Apparently not?” Remus tried to laugh.

“Remus was a little preoccupied saving the boy’s life, give him a break,” Lily broke in, glancing at Remus, who nervously pushed the hair from his eyes.

“I mean, I’m oblivious as fuck and I still noticed the kid didn’t have on any shoes,” James replied, glowering playfully at Lily and not realizing that his comment was a tad tone-deaf.

“Oh, _Padfoot_.” Remus smacked himself in the forehead as he fell back against the back of the sofa. Peter grumbled a little at the motion of the couch, as he had already fallen back into a state of semi-consciousness, face planted against the cushions. “But Prongs?”

Again, James’ expression slackened. “It’s my hair,” he said listlessly. Immediately, Lily and Remus shot each other matching, knowing smiles.

“Antlers,” Remus mimed as Lily nodded, a wide grin covering her freckled cheeks.

“My hair does _not_ look like antlers!” James whined.

“Oh, don’t be upset,” Lily crooned, pulling James into a kiss. “You have cute antlers.”

He pulled out of the kiss to pretend to cry, arms thrown out to his side, head thrown back onto the tall back of the armchair he and Lily were sharing. “I _don’t_ have antlers.”

“But it fits,” Remus argued. James’ whole face brightened. That tenderness that he felt when James called him Moony spread through his chest again. It wasn’t the terrifying hitch in the rhythm of his heart, like he felt when he thought about Sirius, it was just _warm_.

“A matched set.” A fire of gold and green burned in his hazel eyes.

The room across from James’ went to Remus. Peter took the one right next door, making sure to tell Remus to wake him if he needed him for anything. With Remus’ assurance, Peter waddled off into his room, leaving the door open, and collapsing onto the bed in the corner.

As Remus turned to go into his room, he stopped short, nearly running face first into Lily, who leaned into his doorway, in an obvious attempt at blocking him from it.

“Need something, Lil?” Remus asked, trying to keep his tone light, but knowing exactly why she was prowling. She was trying to get Remus to _talk_.

“Have you talked to Sirius yet?” Even as she spoke, she watched Remus closely, as if watching for minuscule facial expressions that could give him away.

“Nope,” Remus replied, with a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t have his number.”

“Oh.” Her expression was surprised, but also … disappointed? “Does he have yours?”

Another shrug. “I gave it to Marlene. I don’t know if he has it or not.” For only a moment, she was quiet, staring absently at Remus, as if formulating a plan to resolve this situation.

“Stay right here.” With a hop, she ran into James’ room and, after some loud grumbling from James, returned with his mobile in her hand. Once unlocked, she went straight to rummaging through James’ texts – Remus glanced down to see **_Padfoot_** across the top.

“I don’t know if I …” Remus started to argue. If Sirius had wanted him to have his number, he would’ve given it to him. Maybe Sirius didn’t _want_ to talk to Remus. The delighted look on Lily’s face made him reconsider. What was it she was finding in this conversation?

“Before you say anything else, read this.” They traded phones and Remus looked down.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Prongs: Remus has a nickname too,**

**but I can’t tell you what it is**

_Padfoot_ : maybe I already know it. Maybe

Remus likes me more than he likes you

**Prongs: he probably does**

_Padfoot_ : what does that even mean

**Prongs: I put my foot in my mouth today sorta**

_Padfoot_ : that sounds like a talent

**Prongs: with how often I do it, it must be**

**_________________________________________________________**

His throat tightened as he swallowed, staring at the words on the screen. _“Maybe I already know it. Maybe Remus likes me more than he likes you.”_ While that wasn’t necessarily true – because, of course he liked James and yes, he liked Sirius, but _quite_ differently – he may have let an ethereal smile cross over his lips before pursing them to stifle it.

Remus looked up as Lily spoke. “I already put his number in your mobile,” she said hurriedly as James shouted at her from his room to come to bed.

“Lily, what if …” She interrupted, swapping phones again.

“You won’t know if you don’t _talk_ to him.” Her voice bordered insistent. Just before she disappeared into James’ room, Remus caught her by the arm.

“Tell James that I _like_ being Moony.” A subdued smile flourished over her face, starting with a tiny curl in one corner of her lips and spreading to every feature of her face.

“I’ll tell him in the morning. He deserves to sweat over it a little first.” With a wink, she shut James’ door behind her, leaving Remus in a dark, empty hallway. And he let himself stand there, silently leaning against his doorway. He had Sirius’ number.

No, if for no other reason, he wouldn’t text Sirius purely as a measure of self-control, because this was becoming a bigger problem than Remus was willing to let it become. Sure, Sirius might need him, and if he did, Remus would be there to help. Nothing more. After all, Sirius was an absolute stranger – one that Remus _knew_ used illegal prescription drugs. Why was that giant-arse red flag not enough for him to want to stay away?

It was because Remus knew the reason. Because he knew that those drugs were most likely the only reason that Sirius was still half-functioning, at the very least. Because he knew that there was some massive trauma in Sirius’ past that had immensely fucked him up. The kind of massive trauma that maybe Remus alone could understand. He couldn’t let go of the idea of _saving_ Sirius, because maybe he was the only one who could. He and James and Peter.

Stripping his shirt and stepping out of his jeans, Remus buried himself beneath the pile of blankets on top of the guest bed. A soft, pleasant moan slipped from his lips at the contact of the cool silk sheets against his skin, against the long-since-healed areas of his skin that tended to run hotter than the rest. Or at least, felt like they did, most days.

His mobile was still in his hand. A tap on the screen illuminated the dark. Thumb hovering over Sirius’ contact information, he brought the other hand up to rub his face. More than once, he typed out several variations of the same message, only to ultimately discard them all.

He shut off the screen. If Sirius needed him, he would contact him. If there was some sort of order to the chaos of the universe, and he _was_ the one that Sirius needed, then Sirius would find him again. Remus had to believe that. So, he burrowed deep into the mountain of sheets and blankets and pillows above him, curling his knees to his chest and holding them there.

It must’ve been how worked up he’d gotten himself over Sirius – more so with making sure Sirius lived through the enormous panic attack he’d had, practically in Remus’ arms. It could have been brought on by how high Remus’ own anxiety ran throughout the course of the previous day. After all, he’d gone to a house party with dozens of strangers and had fallen asleep in a foreign bed he hadn’t planned on sleeping in, which he hadn’t done since … well.

Either way, _something_ had brought on the nightmare he had the night before. At this point in his life, the nightmares were few and far between, mostly thanks to the disgusting amounts of therapy Remus had to endure. It had probably been a month since the last one.

This one hadn’t been the worst he’d ever had. Or, at least, he assumed, since nobody burst into the room to shake him from nightmare-induced screaming. Compared to some of his others, this one had been relatively mild. Of course, there was still that face that Remus had to stare at – the sharpened, yellowing teeth underneath sunken, hollow, _empty_ eyes. His face was often the worst part. Remembering it brought a caustic taste to the back of Remus’ throat.

Several minutes of deep breathing reminded him that he was safe – there were no cables around his ankles, no plastic ties around his wrists, all of his scars had healed. He was at his friend’s house – warm, comfortable, _safe_. It was the first time in a long time that he had to run through this little checklist, reminding him of all the situations he was _not_ in anymore.

When James Potter came bounding into his room, shouting incoherently at the top of his lungs (seriously, how did he _not_ have a hangover?) Remus had to redefine his definition of safe. James had the ability to make Remus feel safe even when he was still very much on edge.

“Moony!” James screamed, and Remus could feel him pulling at the blankets mounded on top of the bed, the pressure against him being released with each layer. “Moony? Moony! If you’re alive, give me a sign.” His clawing at the blankets ceased momentarily.

“I’m not sure I’m alive,” Remus muttered into the pillow. At the sound of his voice, James yanked back the rest of the blankets, uncovering Remus’s bare torso. And all of the unnumbered scars that lived there. James didn’t even look down, didn’t acknowledge them at all.

“You’re alive,” James grinned, but it faded a little. “Everything okay?” God, how perceptive could he be? Remus had tried so hard to keep his stressed expression hidden. In an attempt to not turn it into a huge deal, Remus stretched, pulling the sheet further up, back up over his chest. As uncomfortable as he was with having other people see just how damaged his body really was, he knew he shouldn’t have shed his clothes last night. But it was damn near impossible to sleep with how hot he ran, especially at night. Besides, James really wasn’t other _people_. He was just _James_. He glanced toward Remus’ motion but didn’t say anything.

“I’d be better if I wasn’t just woken up at dawn,” Remus grumbled, lying to avoid having to tell James that sleeping in his guest room had incited a panic-nightmare.

The grin returned to James’ face, but it had changed. “Lily told me what you said.” Before he could even try to suppress it, a satisfied grin splashed over Remus’ lips.

“I take it back,” he lied. James didn’t buy it in the least.

“You _like_ being my Moony, you can admit it.”

“I admit nothing.”

“And I just realized this morning when I went to go change your name in my mobile to Moony that I don’t even have your number.” His knees hit the floor next to the bed as he propped his elbows up onto the mattress, jutting into Remus’ ribs. He held his mobile in both hands, looking up at Remus, expectant. Remus let out a fake groan and recited his digits.

On the windowsill next to his bed, Remus’ mobile vibrated, scuttling across the cherry-stained wood. Without even looking at the face, he swiped his thumb over the screen.

“You’re really going to save me as Moony in your mobile?” he asked with a smile, but James’ eyebrows furrowed as he pulled the phone from his own ear.

“It went to your voicemail,” he said quietly, glancing at Remus’ phone, as if he were trying to hear what could possibly be on the other end. Within the gentle hum of an open line, Remus heard a sharp, anxious breath, followed by a length of silence.

“Remus?” he heard. His eyes widened, that hitch in his heart rate returned in full.

“ _Sirius_?”


	2. We Don't Have to Talk About It

**_ Sirius  _ **

At some point, exhaustion must’ve gotten the better of him. How he was exhausted after spending the last day and a half unconsciousness was a mystery, but the Xanax certainly hadn’t done the job, so it must’ve been exhaustion. The Xanax hadn’t kept his dreams at bay, either. Not the way Valium did. If anything, it only altered the content, which did nothing but add to the list of things that Sirius would have to avoid in the future.

Whatever. His exhaustion wasn’t the most immediate problem. Even the dreams, or the change in dreams, wasn’t even the most immediate problem. No, the biggest problem was the fact that there was a _stranger_ in his fucking flat, with his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

“Oi, you alright, mate?” The greasy bastard who was _touching_ him barked in his face, the ash from his cigarette dribbling down across Sirius’ cheek, leaving the scent of menthol in its wake. For longer than he wanted, Sirius completely froze, trying to coax himself out of his panic.

“I didn’t think no one was home, so I let myself in,” the stranger continued, despite the evident terror in Sirius’ expression. When he finally gathered enough composure to wrench away, he did so with violence, shoving himself into the corner of the wall at the head of his bed.

“Apologies, mister,” the git added with a chuckle, as if Sirius’ potential mental breakdown was a joke. “I’m only here to fix the heat. I’ll be out in a jiff.” As he walked off toward the living room, Sirius stayed stuck in his corner, whole body dissolving into a tremor. There was someone in his _home_. Someone had entered his flat without his permission and had thought it was okay to _shake_ him awake. Never had this flat felt so _unguarded_ , including Marlene’s drug traffic.

Through his bedroom door, he could see the front door of his flat, absolutely wide open. Open enough to see that Marlene’s door was closed. Which meant she wasn’t home. Even though she _promised_ him that she would be here when this arsehole came to fix the heat.

There was only one thought in Sirius’ mind. It repeated infinitely, tumbling over itself to form a mass of consonants and vowels that would have lost their meaning out loud. But it was profoundly clear in Sirius’ thoughts. Clear and intruding and overwhelming to the point that he had to act on it, to satisfy its screaming insistence. He fumbled in the sheets to find his mobile.

Strangely, there was no hesitation in his action, as there had been the night before. It could’ve been the panic – the need for familiarity, the need for comfort. It could’ve been the pounding in his head that beat out this name in time with the pumping of Sirius’ veins. With no pause, Sirius tapped the icon under the most recently added contact. It barely even rang.

“You’re really going to save me as Moony in your mobile?” Remus answered with what sounded like a laugh in his throat. Sirius hardly registered the words that Remus spoke, only the harmonious sound of his voice, deeper than it had been the last time Sirius heard it. It was unintentional, but Sirius inhaled hard, surprised by how instantly calming that voice could be.

“Remus?” he said, a tremble drifting up from his chest.

“Sirius?” Remus replied instantly, a sharp change in the leisure of his voice, abruptly shifting down into concern. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m … there’s …” Sirius tried to organize his thoughts. “I _need_ you.”

The silence that followed unnerved him. Oh _God_. He’d said the wrong thing. After all, Remus was ultimately a stranger and that was a really fucking weird thing to say to a stranger.

Remus surprised him by replying, “Tell me where you are.” The softness of Remus’ voice, blurred a little by anxiety, filled Sirius’ head, filled his heart, dampened the pounding in his veins.

“I have to leave, I can’t stay here. I didn’t …” he began, but Remus gently interrupted.

“Can I meet you somewhere?”

“I can get to James’ house,” Sirius said quickly. He didn’t want Remus to meet him at his flat. He didn’t want Remus to see how he lived. Or, at least, stayed alive.

“I’m at James’ now,” Remus said, his voice steadying a bit more, which was somehow immensely reassuring. “You can make it here? Is it far?” Oddly, the most comforting facet was the worry in Remus’ tone. It was knowing someone else actually gave a shit.

Sirius glanced at the time on the screen. “Give me half an hour.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then. Hey, Sirius?” He paused, taking a breath, letting out a few vowels, as if arguing with himself over what to say. “Be careful, yeah?”

Sirius let his eyes drift closed, for barely a moment. “Yeah.”

Sirius had forgotten what an absolute fucking nightmare the tube was. The worst part was that he couldn’t smoke. No, the _worst_ part was that he was out of Valium and his drug-dealer was nowhere to be fucking found, but he was taking these problems one at a time. At least he still had one of the Xanax that she gave him. It would do, for the time being.

The only problem right now was getting to Remus. Everything beyond that was a blip, a minor inconvenience. The woman staring at him as he nibbled incessantly on his fingernails in an effort to keep his cigarettes in his pocket – nothing. The man next to him who kept rubbing his knee against Sirius’ every time the train lurched – only an irritation. The child screaming at the other end of the carriage – grating, certainly, but hardly more than a pebble in the road.

When he finally made it to James’ house – after the half-pack of cigarettes he’d smoked on the walk from the station, not including the one currently in his lips – Remus was waiting for him on the front steps. As soon as Sirius was in sight, Remus stood, talking several long, quick steps down the cobblestone drive. For a moment, as they grew closer, Sirius wondered if Remus would hug him. Honestly, he thought Remus might’ve, distanced only by his knowledge of Sirius’ violent reactions to being touched. Instead, Remus stopped short, letting Sirius come to him.

“You made it,” Remus said, a shaky breath falling from his lips. Over the phone, the worry in Remus’ voice had been so apparent. In person, it was little harder to determine. Yes, Sirius could hear the same edge to his tone, but the smile on his face contradicted it.

“It was a fucking disaster, but I made it.” Sirius sucked in a breath full of smoke, growing the ash bright and full, until it scattered down between their feet.

“Do you want to talk about what happened or would you rather ignore it?” Remus asked, a quirky smile playing at both corners of his lips. There was a desire to smile in return, but Sirius couldn’t gather it to the surface. Instead, he flicked his spent cigarette to the ground.

“Can we talk out here? Just …” Sirius paused, knowing he was sounding like a fucking _creep_ again, but not knowing how else to put it. “Just us?” Remus’ smile was unchanged.

“Of course.” He tilted his head back to the stairs and Sirius nodded. The two of them settled onto the same step, and though there was plenty of room for them to be fully separated, to be on opposite sides, clutching onto opposite railings, Sirius still sat close to Remus. Of course, he didn’t let himself sit close enough to be touched – he’d had enough of that on the train. Off to the side of the stoop, Sirius noticed a small pile of half-smoked cigarettes, most of them still smoldering. Did Remus smoke? More importantly, had he smoked _this many_ , waiting for Sirius?

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said first, blurting it out a little suddenly. Remus shook his head.

“Don’t be. Prongs is thrilled that you’re here.” This time, the smile burst through Sirius’ lips without him even giving it permission. That was _his_ nickname for James. A nickname that he thought James didn’t even like. And already, they’d adopted it. 

“He told you about that?” Sirius regathered his composure, packing his smile back into his mouth and swallowing it. It did little but bury that smile in his stomach, to let it grow.

“Oh, yeah. He was chuffed about it, actually.” The smile on Remus’ face grew to ridiculous proportions. “Now we all have one.” How two innocuous words could have caused the feeling that bloomed in Sirius’ chest was incomprehensible, but welcome. _We_. _All_.

“You gave yours away already,” Sirius said, confused by how well this conversation was going, considering he hadn’t had a proper conversation in _months_.

“Moony,” Remus nodded, his voice alight with the same thing that Sirius felt blossom throughout his chest only moments ago but couldn’t name. At the same time, Remus craned his neck, tracing the shape of the half-moon scar that started on his cheek and curved down his throat. Sirius stared, awestruck by how casually Remus handled his _own_ trauma.

“Is it wrong to say it suits you?” Sirius asked hesitantly. It wasn’t even that the name matched one of his most obvious scars. It was just _Remus_ – a soft, bolstering glow that had this uncanny ability to abolish a darkness that nothing else could touch. Remus was moonlight itself.

A splash of red burned quickly through Remus’ cheeks. “No, it’s … it’s nice. I didn’t have a choice when I got them, so …” He absently rubbed the pad of his finger along the bridge of his nose, over the scar that stretched across it. “It’s nice to choose the way people see them.”

Silently, Sirius wondered how long ago this trauma was in Remus’ life. He wondered how long it would be until he could talk about his own past the way Remus talked about his. The shudder that snapped his posture back into place reminded him. Not any time soon.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Remus was in the middle of reminding when Sirius interrupted, his voice coming out a little choked.

“The maintenance man. Came to fix my heat.” His words were choppy as he struggled to hold down the bile in his throat. “He woke me up. By shaking me.” It wasn’t the maintenance man that was the problem. Remus likely knew that, even if he didn’t know who the problem _was_.

“I’m so sorry, Sirius,” Remus replied, burying his fist in his other hand, obviously trying to quell his need to give physical comfort. “But I’m glad you knew you could call me.”

A tight laugh slipped through Sirius’ clenched teeth. “I knew you were the only person in the world who might not laugh at how bloody stupid it is.”

“It’s _not_ stupid.” His words popped, like the snap of a wet towel. “Whatever it is that you went through, _nobody_ knows what it’s like. They don’t see the nightmares. They don’t see you losing your lunch when you get a flashback. _Nobody_ ever really knows.” He spoke in bursts, teeth clenching together in between. When all was said, the tension released from his shoulders and they slumped with the exhalation of a breath that was being held.

And Sirius could only stare, wide-eyed, but blinking furiously. If there was some cosmic force in the universe that was responsible for Sirius meeting this personification of moonlight, then Sirius would bow down and worship it for eternity.

“Nobody except _you_ ,” he said, the quiet breath that fell from his lungs a silent hymn to the deity that gave him an answer to a prayer that had never left his lips.

Cheeks pink, Remus leaned over, resting his temple on top of his knees, crossing his arms underneath them. “Then it’s a good thing you found me when you did.”

God, the smile that Sirius felt etch its way across his lips burned like he hadn’t used those muscles in a millennium. But the smile on Remus’ face extinguished that burn inside Sirius’ teeth, quashed the smoldering pile of disquiet still left in his chest. In its place, Remus left a remnant of that smile, and it smoldered in its own way. It didn’t _burn_. It was crackling and warm and bright.

Before Sirius could say anything else, the front door swung wide behind them.

“Padfoot, you’re here, thank God.” With amusement in his expression, Sirius turned to see a very distressed James Potter. His _Prongs_. “Before we begin, are you alright?” 

Eyes, wide, again. Begin what? “I’m alright, yeah.”

“If you need to talk to Moony some more, I’m okay with that. If you need to talk to me, I’m okay with that, too.” Remus let out a stifled laugh through his nose.

“We’re okay, Prongs,” Sirius replied. Remus was right about how much James loved that stupid nickname. His face lit up like a fucking siren, flushed red and all.

“Then get your arses in the house because we have a problem.”

“A problem?” Remus said, concern creeping out from the border of his voice again.

James’ bottom lip quivered. “I have to feed five people and I don’t know how to cook.”

For the first time in a long time, Sirius laughed.

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

“Sirius?” Remus’ eyes widened as he looked over to James, whose expression was a mixture of surprise and total elation. Unintentionally, Remus clenched his teeth, waiting to hear what reply would come through the other end. James noticed, his excitement slipping.

“Is he alright?” James whispered, absently fidgeting with the edge of Remus’ mattress.

No reply came, so Remus continued. “What happened? Are you alright?” The tone of Sirius’ voice had been so thin, so strained. Something _had_ to have happened.

“I’m … there’s …” Sirius took a breath, in an obvious attempt to calm himself, but his breath slipped out as static through the phone line. “I _need_ you,” he half-whispered, coming out in sort of a desperate whimper. The hitch in Remus’ heart escalated into his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t convince himself to speak. The words reverberated in his skull _. I need you._

His reaction must have been visible, because James’ eyes widened, eyebrows rising high, nearly into his hair, dusting at the tousled fringe that hung above them. In fact, he even reached out, placing his hand on top of Remus’ forearm. Remus swallowed as he met James’ gaze.

“Tell me where you are,” Remus convinced himself to respond, working very hard at keeping his tone level and undisturbed, despite the tightening of his throat.

“I have to leave.” Sirius seemed to side-step the question, and Remus tried not to interpret what that meant just then. “I can’t stay here. I didn’t …” Remus interrupted carefully.

“Can I meet you somewhere?” he asked. Wherever Sirius was, he didn’t want to tell Remus about it. Or, if he was at home, then he didn’t want Remus to know where he lived. Of course, Remus couldn’t blame him for that. For whatever reason, whatever had happened to him, Sirius had need to be more cautious than most people. Remus understood that fully.

As he was waiting for Sirius to reply, he nodded to James, who somehow understood that vague command, and stood, making room for Remus to push himself out of bed. He forgot that he was standing in his underwear in James’ guest room, forgot that all his scars were exposed.

“I can get to James’ house,” Sirius added, and Remus glanced over to James, who was helping Remus gather his clothes from where he’d shed them the night before. Despite the sharp sound of Sirius’ voice, Remus breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been afraid that he had been pushing too much, that he would frighten Sirius off when Sirius needed him the most.

“I’m at James’ now,” Remus said, feeling his heart rate level off a bit. James had been watching Remus carefully and at the idea that Sirius would come to _them_ , the tension in James’ shoulders released slightly. He handed Remus his jeans and, with some contorting to keep the phone to his ear, Remus slid them up his hips. “You can make it here? Is it far?” Remus asked as James handed him his shirt. He wondered how Sirius would make the trip – would he try to take public transportation? Would he _live_ through that? It was always rather hard on Remus.

After a minuscule pause, Sirius responded, “Give me half an hour.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” On a short breath, Remus continued. “Hey, Sirius?” He started and stopped and restarted what he wanted to say an embarrassing number of times, finally settling on an arbitrary “Be careful, yeah?” Was that too personal to say to a _stranger_?

A welcome, almost contented sigh burrowed through the line. “Yeah.”

“He’s on his way,” Remus said to James as he threw his mobile onto the bed, pulling his T-shirt on over his head. When his stress level started to drop, he could feel it in his limbs, and he steadied himself with his palm flat against the wall. James watched closely.

“He’s alright, Moony,” James assured in a soft tone, coming from across the room so he could administer that delicate, comforting squeeze to Remus’ shoulder.

Remus let out a terse laugh. “You’d think he was my best friend.” An unusually shrewd smile flashed across James’ face and he made no attempt to conceal it.

“But he _is_ , isn’t he?” he grinned, patting Remus’ shoulder a few times before walking out of the room. “And so am I. Which is why I think you’re overdue for a smoke.” Remus smiled.

“Is that so,” he replied flatly, unable to break the smile, though he tried. James leaned back into the room, hanging onto the door frame, smile still in place.

“When did he say he’d be here?”

“Little after half past.” James glanced at the clock next to Remus’ bed.

“How many cigarettes can you smoke in half an hour? Because I recommend not trying to set a record or anything.” Remus rolled his eyes, biting his tongue to stifle his grin.

“I don’t have to wait outside for him, you know,” Remus called after him as James disappeared again, but he reappeared just as quickly.

“Moony,” he said, quite straight-faced. “If you weren’t going to wait outside for him, _I_ would’ve done.” He gave Remus a soft smile. “It’s okay to be worried. I’m worried, too.” The insight that James had into Remus’ heart was rather frightening.

“Because he’s our best friend, right?”

The smile on James’ face was ridiculous and excessive. “Right.”

The number of cigarettes that Remus ended up smoking was obscene. He obsessively piled them together at the side of the stairs that led to James’ front door, where he sat, waiting.

James was right – Remus was worried. Half-panicked, truth be told. All he could think about was Sirius on the tube, surrounded by people who didn’t know not to touch him. What if something happened? What if Sirius had a panic attack in public with no one around to help?

A shaking breath slipped through Remus’ lips, stoking the embers at the tip of his cigarette, still between his teeth. This was bordering obsession, his preoccupation with Sirius. He didn’t even know him, not really. He knew nothing about him, other than his aversion to touch.

That didn’t stop the flutter that raced about his chest as soon as Sirius appeared, just at the end of the drive. He looked alright. His dark, wavy hair was sort of a mess, the circles under his eyes were deeper purple than they had been the day before, his hand trembled a bit as he returned the cigarette to his lips, but he was _alright_. And he was _here_.

Remus added his last cigarette to the pile, standing quickly. He forgot that he meant to play it cool, forgot that he was trying not to suffocate Sirius with too much attention. In fact, as he made his way down the cobblestone to Sirius, he almost forgot about not touching him. If not for the hesitance in Sirius’ steps, Remus might would have pulled him into a hug.

Instead, he stopped a few steps short, letting Sirius get as close as was comfortable for him, and the look on Sirius’ face registered appreciation.

“You made it,” Remus breathed out, taking a moment to clear the nervous squeak from his voice. Sirius didn’t seem to notice – he reached up to hold the cigarette between his lips.

“It was a fucking disaster,” Sirius mumbled, the cigarette bouncing between his words for a moment, before he stabilized it with his fingers. He took in a deep breath, letting his eyes roll closed for just a moment. The ash glowed, forming a halo over his lips. “But I made it.”

As he spoke, twirling trails of smoke seeped out from between his parted lips, the colour of the smoke matching the stony colour of Sirius’ eyes. Remus steadied his gaze, keeping it from focusing on the professional level of care that Sirius’ lips imparted to the cigarette, delicately keeping it from falling without worrying enough to fully close his mouth.

“Do you want to talk about what happened or would you rather ignore it?” Remus let himself smile to put Sirius at ease. For a moment, the corner of Sirius’ mouth twitched, like he intended to respond in kind, but wouldn’t allow himself to do it.

“Can we talk out here?” Sirius paused, pulling the cigarette from his lips. He lowered his voice a little. “Just … just us?” Remus tried not to let his expression change.

“Of course,” he responded, indicating to the stairs, and Sirius followed. Remus took one side of the stairs, fully expecting Sirius to sit as far away as humanly possible. He didn’t. Instead, he sat closer to Remus than Remus was prepared for. Sirius didn’t adjust his position in the slightest, nor did Remus feel the need to move away. It was oddly comfortable.

At first, it seemed Sirius’ eye caught the small mountain of cigarettes, stubbed out next to the stairs. Before Remus could explain it away, Sirius spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hurry in his tone. Remus immediately shook his head, trying to dispel Sirius’ concern as quickly as it had appeared. The last thing he wanted Sirius to think was that Remus didn’t want to help, or Remus didn’t want him around. Quite the opposite was true.

“Don’t be,” Remus smiled. “Prongs is thrilled that you’re here.” At the mention of James, the smile that Sirius had been restraining finally shone through. At the sight of it, Remus paused, feeling his whole visage soften in response. Was this the first time he’d seen Sirius smile? _God_ , he needed to make it happen a hell of a lot more often. It was fucking _magnificent_.

He retracted the smile a little, but the sly way it curved the corner of his lips only drew Remus in further. “He told you about that?” His voice was as gentle as his smile.

“Oh, yeah,” Remus nodded, using his words as an excuse to let out the breath he’d been holding. “He was chuffed about it, actually.” Remus’ smile grew. “Now we all have one.”

With that reply, Sirius let out a quiet breath, but Remus wasn’t sure if that was a positive response or not. He got his answer when Sirius looked over, silver eyes soft and swirling.

“You gave yours away already.” The candid way his eyes found Remus’ halted the breath in Remus’ throat. It seemed the longer Sirius was with him, the calmer he became. It was evident in the slowing cadence of his breath, in the increasing fragility of his expression.

“Moony,” Remus restated with a song in his voice, wishing he could contribute more to this conversation, but finding himself getting unwittingly drawn into the luminous depth of Sirius’ gaze. To pull himself out of this hypnosis, he demonstrated why he’d been given his name, dragging his fingernail across the jagged, crescent-shaped scar that had been drawn from his cheek to his throat. Sirius’ eyes carefully followed the movement of Remus’ finger.

“Is it wrong to say it suits you?” Sirius asked, the phrasing of his words considerate, but his tone of voice hardly timid. If anything, the rhythm of his voice bordered brazen flattery. As an unexpected blush rushed through Remus’ freckled cheeks, he nervously pressed his fingertip to the bridge of his nose, over one of his more distinct, noticeable scars.

“No, it’s _nice_ ,” Remus hummed, shifting his voice down a little to hide any imperfections that might give him away. “I didn’t have a choice when I got them, so it’s nice to choose the way people see them.” At first, Sirius watched him with inexplicable awe, but it quickly faded from his face as a tremble raced painfully down his spine. He grimaced in response, reminding Remus why he was here in the first place. “We don’t have to talk about it,” Remus reminded him.

“The maintenance man,” Sirius choked out, his voice a little strangled, like he was struggling to hold down a gag. “Came to fix my heat.” He paused, swallowing down the same gag again. “He woke me up,” he spoke on a short breath before gulping down another. “By shaking me.” The panic that emanated from Sirius was like an airborne virus, and Remus was not immune to it. Watching Sirius fall apart sent an anxious flutter into Remus’ chest.

His first instinct was to touch him. He had to ball a fist to remind himself not to. Then he had to bury that fist within another fist. It still nearly wasn’t enough restraint.

“I’m so sorry, Sirius,” Remus said, letting out a breath to clear the tension in his chest, as a very pressing thought presented itself. When Sirius had been absolutely lost to panic, as he had to have been with a stranger in his house who was touching him, his first thought had been Remus. Even if it had only been out of self-preservation, he knew _Remus_ could help him. And Remus was so grateful, that he voiced it aloud. “But I’m glad you knew you could call me.”

A bitter laugh pressed through Sirius’ lips, and Remus’ brows furrowed for a moment before Sirius spoke. “I knew you were the only person in the world who might not laugh at how bloody stupid it is.” Remus responded before he could think, his voice harsh.

“It’s not stupid,” he barked, a familiar, intractable anger rising in his gut. “Whatever it is that you went through, nobody knows what it’s like.” His voice trembled, the grip of his hands increased. How many times had people told him to **_get over it_**? How many people asked how long he was going to ‘ ** _wallow in self-pity’_**? How often did he taste blood from biting on his lip to keep from voicing his fears, to prevent annoying everyone _again_? Sirius wasn’t going to go through that. “They don’t see the nightmares. They don’t see you losing your lunch when you get a flashback.” Remus let out a staggered breath. “ _Nobody_ ever really knows.”

From the corner of his eye, Remus saw that he had taken it a little too far – Sirius was stone-still, wide-eyed in shock. For a long time, he didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

Finally, he replied. “Nobody except _you_.” It almost sounded grateful. When Remus finally looked over, the relief on Sirius’ face was immeasurable. With a coy smile, cheeks warm with a flush, Remus leaned over and placed his head atop his knees, holding his legs underneath them.

“Then it’s a good thing you found me when you did,” he grinned. And the smile that Remus thought Sirius reserved for James broke through his stoic expression. No, this smile was _different_ from the one Remus had seen earlier. Almost the same, but not quite. The width was the same, the luster was the same, but something about the look in his eyes was vastly different.

Before Remus could speak again, the front door swung open behind them and Remus didn’t even have to look back. He could feel the excitement radiating from James.

“Padfoot, you’re here, thank God.” Just like that, the smile changed again as Sirius turned to look at James, standing in the open doorway, and Remus witnessed the change in real-time. It didn’t diminish, it didn’t dull. The gratitude remained – it was an _ache_ that disappeared.

James spoke, only half-heard by Remus. “Before we begin, are you alright?” Remus didn’t even register that he had no idea what James meant by _begin_. His mind was wound around the revelation that Sirius looked at him like he was in agony. And _only_ him. Why?

“I’m alright, yeah,” Sirius nodded, watching James in confusion.

“If you need to talk to Moony some more, I’m okay with that.” At the sound of his name, Remus snapped to, realizing he didn’t have time to obsess over this. “If you need to talk to _me_ , I’m okay with that, too,” James offered, and Remus let out a short, breathy laugh. For only a moment, Sirius looked back to Remus, and that thing that looked like fucking _misery_ returned to his expression, sending a reciprocal dose of that misery into Remus’ chest.

“We’re okay, Prongs.” Sirius’ smile only increased as he watched James grow ecstatic at the use of his nickname in person, but he brushed it aside for the time being.

“Then get your arses in the house because we have a problem.” His voice squeaked.

“A problem?” Remus wondered, that gloom in his chest making everything feel _awful_.

James sighed. “I have to feed five people and I don’t know how to cook.”

For the first time, Remus heard Sirius laugh. _Watched_ him laugh. Not one of those sarcastic laughs, or stifled laughs, but a _true_ laugh. And it was beautiful. With eyes carelessly closed, he threw his head back, his long, dark hair slipping from his shoulders to hang underneath. His mouth opened wide, a loud, musically high sound drifted from his lips and he held tightly onto his ribs with one hand. He was like a completely new person.

And even after that laugh, when James disappeared back into the house, and Sirius looked back toward Remus, that _thing_ that looked like desperation returned to his face. It clawed its way into Remus’ chest, settling hard and hot right over where his heart should have been.

Sirius must have seen the confused, near-devastated look in Remus’ expression, because his eyebrows furrowed. Despite Sirius’ unwavering gaze on him, Remus couldn’t force himself to change the look he knew Sirius was seeing. They sat there for what felt like a long time, each of them trying to _read_ the other, both in futility. Remus watched Sirius’ eyes scatter over his face, jumping from scar to scar, as if numbering them. As if memorizing their pattern. 

Blinking slowly, Sirius started to raise his hand, and if Remus didn’t know better, he would’ve thought that Sirius meant to touch him. When Sirius’ stretched fingers leveled with Remus’ chest, hovering underneath his chin, Remus reconsidered _everything_.

He couldn’t tell if that distress in Sirius’ silver eyes was blurred out, hiding in the darkness of Sirius’ dilated pupils or if was _augmented_ , increased by this new, unexpected proximity.

When James shouted at them from within the house, it shook Sirius from his trance with a sharp, clearing breath of new air. This time, with no uncertainty, the distress in his eyes was magnified hundreds of times over, and Sirius pulled himself quickly away, baring his teeth.

“We should go help him,” Remus covered for him, clearing his throat. There was an odd smile tucked away in the corner of Sirius’ mouth and, this time, he let it stay. Unlike his other smiles, this one he didn’t try to shove down or cover up. He let it stay.

“Lead the way, Moony.” Remus felt the blush that followed all the way to his feet.

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

Being around Remus was dangerous. Remus made him feel normal. Being with Remus made him feel like nothing bad had ever happened to him in his whole life. And that was a very disturbing way to feel, because inevitably, he would always remember how very wrong that was.

It must have been obvious in his expression. Eventually, Remus began looking at him differently. Which was another _massively_ immense problem. When Remus looked at him that way, Sirius wanted to do a terrifying number of things to make it stop.

The desire to correct this look had even caused Sirius to implement a new self-rule. _Don’t fucking touch Remus._ Before that look, it hadn’t even been a conscious thought. Of _course_ he wouldn’t touch Remus, he didn’t touch _anyone_. Suddenly, he wanted Remus to be the exception.

Sirius didn’t even know what was driving this look. It was really fucking hard to read. A smile usually stayed on his lips, but it was blunted by something. Even after only being in Remus’ company twice, Sirius could tell that wasn’t his whole, unbridled smile. He knew, because he’d _seen_ it before. At the party, ‘ _Then maybe you can just talk to me. If you want.”_ _That_ was his smile. When he watched Sirius walk up the drive to James’ house, _that_ was his smile.

This new smile covered up something dreadful, like funeral parlor makeup on a corpse. It took a _lot_ to make it look normal, and it was still pretty fucking far from normal anyway. It wasn’t constant in his expression, but it showed up a lot. Especially the longer he looked at Sirius.

When Sirius had nearly touched him, out on the steps, that was when Sirius had been able to scrutinize it. From every angle, no matter how much deeper Sirius tried to search in Remus’ eyes, the look always seemed the same. The only way Sirius could think to describe it was heartbreak. Wondering if it _was_ had two very separate effects on Sirius. It burned an acrid hole at the bottom of his ribcage. And it confused the absolute fuck out of him.

James had ordered pizza. There had been an attempt at cooking, and Lily had to save him with a fire extinguisher, so she banished him (and the rest of the boys, by proxy) from the kitchen. Of course, _she_ wasn’t about to cook for them. Her exact words were, _‘It’s not my fault you can’t cook. Order a pizza.’_ So, James had ordered pizza.

Since moving out of his parents’ house, this had been the most social contact Sirius had in months. He met Wormtail, was told not to ask about the nickname, and then asked about it anyway. Turns out, Pete had a frightfully embarrassing haircut as a teenager, when he first met James, and James had never, _ever_ let him live it down.

“It was the most pathetic thing you’ve ever seen!” James cackled, laughing through tears as he rolled back on the sofa, clutching his ribs with both hands.

Peter was a bright shade of pink. “It was pretty bad,” he admitted.

“Come on, Pete. How bad?” Remus asked, and Peter let out a breath through his nostrils.

“I mean, look how thin my hair is. And it’s blonde.” He rolled his eyes.

James’ laughter suddenly disappeared, and Sirius turned to find that he was laughing so hard that he wasn’t breathing. He rolled off the back of the sofa and onto Lily’s lap.

“Prongs, take a breath, mate,” Sirius chuckled, taking another long drag on his cigarette, leaning on the balcony railing outside of James’ room to smoke.

A sharp, gasping breath erupted, followed by more laughter. “I’m going to have to dig up some photos, I don’t think you guys get how wicked this thing was.” Lily fanned his face.

“I’ve seen the photos,” she agreed, wincing at Peter. “Sorry, Wormy. It was _not_ good.”

Peter shrugged. “I only met James because of that stupid thing and look at all the friends I’ve got out of it. Fair trade,” he grinned, most specifically at Remus, and when Sirius followed Peter’s gaze, found that Remus had been looking at _him_. Surprise first shot through Remus’ expression, but he recovered quickly, directing a question at Sirius to cover his stare.

“Got another one of those?” Remus nodded to the cigarette between Sirius’ lips. Sirius nodded back, pulling the pack from the back pocket of his dark jeans. With the movement of Sirius’ hands, Remus’ focus was momentarily shifted, but he corrected rather swiftly, with a subtle clenching of his jaw. As Sirius held the unlit cigarette to the ash of his own to light it, he sucked in a breath, glancing up to see Remus watching the caving of his cheeks.

“All yours, Moons,” Sirius mumbled, not sure why the pitch of his voice automatically took a severe dip, resounding low like he’d been woken from sleep. He held the cigarette out between his first two fingers and Remus took it from him with his index and thumb. The touch of their skin was inevitable, but it still sent an inexplicable shock through Sirius’ bones. Like static electricity, but deeper – it sped from his fingers, up his arm, across his chest. It _burned_.

“Thanks, Pads,” Remus replied, casually throwing a wink in Sirius’ direction before he leaned next to him on the railing. The burn became a raging fire. The cigarette in Sirius’ lips hung uncared for as Sirius mentally calculated the minuscule distance between his elbow and Remus’ ribs. If he shifted, he’d be leaning into Remus. Why did he _desperately_ want to do that?

“Do you two really need nicknames for your nicknames?” James huffed. Remus laughed, and Sirius hardened his expression to keep secret the immediate way he softened in response to Remus’ light, harmonious laugh. _Why_ did he respond this way to a bloke he didn’t even know?

“You’re just jealous because Prongs is only one syllable.” He grinned for a second before taking a long, deep drag on the cigarette between his lips, holding it like a joint. Sirius tried, he _swore_ he tried so hard not to watch Remus smoke. He tried not to get mesmerized by the give of Remus’ unshaven cheeks as he inhaled. He struggled against memorizing the heedless way Remus hung his mouth open to let the smoke trickle out on its own. He implicitly failed to ignore the soft, satisfied moan that drew up from Remus’ throat, hidden in a cloud of smoke.

Eventually, he stopped trying to stop. With Remus’ face turned to the door, Sirius let his eyes travel over the pale scars that peppered Remus’ skin. The scar that earned him his name was hidden, tucked away on the left side of Remus’ neck, leaving Sirius to discover all the ones on the right side. The one that caught his eye snaked down the back of Remus’ neck, traveled parallel to his collarbone, and dipped right down into the collar of his shirt.

A smile on his lips, Remus turned back toward Sirius, pushing one hand through his dark golden curls even though they all fell back forward into his face again as soon as his fingers went through them. The smile blunted as he drew in another puff of smoke, his lips pursed.

When Remus moved toward the open door, back into James’ room, Sirius didn’t even realize he stepped forward behind him, following the lingering scent of his own cigarettes, the smoke curling from Remus’ lips. He only recognized how closely he was standing to him when Remus turned back, and Sirius stepped face-first into him, nearly singeing Remus’ button-down.

In his surprise, Remus instinctively reached out to keep from knocking Sirius on his arse, gripping him by his waist with both hands, his cigarette still between his teeth.

“Ah, Sirius, I’m so s–,” he started to apologize, but instantly registered that Sirius hadn’t abruptly moved away, as Remus likely expected. Whether on purpose or not, Remus flexed his fingers against Sirius’ skin, pressing in just a bit, almost as if to test his boundaries.

In his own shock, Sirius stalled, noticing the same thing as Remus, but in a very different context. He _hadn’t_ violently pulled away from Remus the way he would have with anyone else. He didn’t feel that strangling, flashing panic that usually related a stranger’s touch to the one that turned his stomach. Even more alarming was recognizing that Remus’ touch was _comfortable_. It was warm and tender and pleasant, and Sirius _ached_ underneath it.

At that moment, Sirius finally realized what was happening. Why he thoroughly enjoyed watching Remus smoke. Why he wanted to clear the broken expression from Remus’ face. Why he felt the urge to touch Remus, and the overwhelming need to let Remus touch _him_.

Because he was _attracted_ to Remus.

“Oh, no,” he breathed out, only realizing he’d accidentally spoken out loud when Remus furrowed his brows. He back-pedaled. “No, it’s alright, Moony. My fault.” He not-so-subtly took a very large step back from Remus, gripping onto the balcony railing behind him.

Remus watched him carefully for a moment, concern at the forefront of his expression, but something else hidden deeper. Something like curiosity. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Sirius said, despite the lack of air in his lungs. His hand may have trembled a bit as he reached up to take the unsteady cigarette from his lips, stubbing it out into the ashtray balancing next to him. He was about to give Remus a second confirmation, as Remus was still watching him very closely, when Remus slipped the cigarette from his mouth, leaning past Sirius to put it out in the same ashtray. Though he didn’t touch Sirius again, he definitely didn’t break his gaze as he leaned in, his arm stretched across Sirius’ stomach.

“If you say so,” Remus replied. Sirius could feel the warmth of Remus’ breath against his chest, through his shirt. Unless Sirius was mistaken, there was a rumbling depth to Remus’ voice that hadn’t been present before. Maybe it was only because he was close enough that Sirius thought he could feel the vibrations of Remus’ throat through the air.

As Remus walked back into James’ room, where James was still riddled with laughter over Peter’s unfortunate hairstyle, Sirius stood deathly still. His mouth hung ajar. He could not do this to himself again. He could _not_ be attracted to Remus. Not Remus. Anyone but Remus.

Remus was supposed to be his stronghold. Remus was the person he would go to when he couldn’t fucking handle anyone else. Remus was meant to be safe. If Sirius was _attracted_ to Remus, then Remus was very much _not_ safe. The last time Sirius had been attracted to someone, it fucked up his entire life. And, no, Sirius wasn’t afraid of _Remus_. He was afraid of _himself_. He was afraid of allowing himself to get to close to Remus, allowing himself to be fond of Remus.

No, that was already too fucking late. As he looked up, catching a glimpse of Remus smiling as he sat on the arm of the couch, toying with Peter’s hair as Peter looked up in feign exasperation, he knew. He was already _so_ fond of Remus. He was fond of all of them, but there was something different with Remus. Because Remus understood.

 _Fine_ , he settled within himself. He could rely on Remus to a certain _point_. He could talk to Remus about how hard it was to cope. He could laugh and joke and enjoy the company of this ragtag group of boys, these hooligans, these _marauders_ , but he had to keep up a certain emotional and physical barrier between them. Especially with Remus.

So, Sirius stayed on the balcony, despite how he had long-since finished his cigarette. He offered subdued laughter to their jokes, chimed in with his own mildly sarcastic comments. But he stayed outside. Outside their circle. He had to keep it this way. For his own safety.

Most of the day went off without Sirius having to make any radical adjustments. After all, he wasn’t touching Remus before, so it would most definitely go unnoticed for him to hold himself from doing it in the first place. Or, he thought.

There were a couple times, however, when all Remus had to do was _look_ at him, and Sirius could practically feel Remus’ hands on his waist all over again. The residual feeling that it left him with was not pleasant. No, it was _too_ pleasant. Pleasant enough to be terrifying.

After a while, it seemed that Remus noticed how tense Sirius became whenever Remus was within touching range, because Sirius’ whole frame became awkwardly rigid. The truth was, he was trying to condition himself to be less comfortable around Remus. It wasn’t working.

All Remus had to do was smile in Sirius’ direction and the solid exterior that Sirius worked so hard to build and maintain just absolutely fucking dissolved. With every grin, it crumbled, and whenever Remus looked away, Sirius scrambled to rebuild.

Their party traversed through every room of the Potter house, ending in the kitchen as James and Peter snacked on leftover pizza crust. Afterward, James, Peter, and Lily had all corralled into the sitting room, while James was talking about putting on a movie. At first, Remus had fallen in line, but stopped at the door, turning to face Sirius.

“Pads, could I talk to you?” Remus asked, voice empty. Sirius tried not to panic.

“Sure, Moony, what’s up?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering, despite the tremors traveling down every group of muscles in his body, starting with his throat.

Remus took a breath and let it out. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, avoiding Sirius’ gaze for a moment, and Sirius physically startled in response.

“ _Why_?” Sirius’ response was practically a whine.

“Earlier when I …” he let out a breath, “touched you.” God, he couldn’t even listen to Remus _talk_ about touching him without falling into full-blown fantasizing about it.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He literally waved it away, because the back of his mind was _screaming_ at him to not make Remus think that he wasn’t allowed to touch him.

“No, I know it made you uncomfortable. You’ve been …” he trailed off, as if trying to decide how to phrase it, but ultimately decided to leave it unsaid. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”

“No, Remus, that’s not –” Sirius began, but Peter walked into the kitchen, shutting the door rapidly behind him, a hard swallow clenched in his throat, colour drained from his face.

“ _Pete_ ,” Remus said delicately, taking him by the shoulder. As his eyes slowly met Remus’, they were wide, the normally bright blue colour frighteningly dark.

“Please stay in the kitchen, Remus,” Peter begged, his voice wobbling. As if he _knew_ , Remus straightened his back, expression melting from his suddenly ashen face.

“It was _today_ ,” he said, robbed of breath. Peter nodded solemnly. Before Sirius could even ask, Remus burst angrily from the kitchen, the door slamming against the wall.

“What –” Sirius began, but Peter was already following at Remus’ heels. Sirius decided to follow, too. In the living room, Remus stood with his mobile in his hands. They were trembling.

“ _Moony_ ,” James said softly, standing from his position on the couch. Lily stood behind him. Neither of them moved toward Remus, and Remus remained still.

“I …” Remus began, his voice barely a whisper, staring at the screen in his hands. “I didn’t think he’d … how could … why did they …” Cautiously, Peter put a hand on Remus’ back.

“Talk to me, Remus,” he urged. When Remus finally turned, the amber colour of his eyes was dulled, like an unpolished stone, tears glistening at the dull, red border of his eyes. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and backed away toward the stairs, letting the phone fall from his fingertips. The glass screen shattered. Whatever this was, it was _really_ fucking bad. 

With a wince, Peter followed quickly after Remus. Not knowing what else to do, Sirius knelt to pick up Remus’ mobile. He couldn’t convince himself to stand back up. Neither James nor Lily said anything. There was only a glance shared between the three of them.

From upstairs, Sirius could hear the dull thumping of Remus’ footsteps, pacing back and forth across the floor. Shouting followed – Sirius was barely able to make out the tensed, cracking sound of Remus’ voice. He couldn’t hear Peter reply at all. When a serious of loud blows followed, Sirius had to wonder if Remus was putting his fist through the wall.

Sooner than Sirius expected, Peter came slowly back down the stairs, wiping his cheeks on the back of his hand. Sirius’ stomach flipped at the sight. If Pete was crying, it meant _Remus_ was crying. Upstairs. _Alone_. Sirius stood, wanting to move. Just _move_. 

As soon as Peter landed on the last stair, James spoke. “Pete, what the fuck just happened?” Peter let out a breath through pursed lips, looking around for Remus’ mobile, and Sirius held it out for him to take. With a nod, Pete took the phone and pocketed it.

“I’m not sure he wanted you to find out this way,” he said, taking in deep breaths, as if to calm himself. “But he’s not going to want to talk about it right away. And he’s going to need a _minute_.” For a moment, Sirius froze. This was Remus’ _trauma_. Whatever it was.

“You don’t have to tell us, Wormtail,” Sirius offered quickly, knowing how he would feel if someone knew _his_ secret. “If you don’t think Remus would want us to know.”

Peter nodded, glancing over at Sirius. “But he _does_. You, especially, Padfoot.” Sirius lowered his head. This wasn’t how he wanted to find out. He had wanted to hear it straight from Remus. But he couldn’t imagine Remus wanting to see him just then. “It’s not really a secret.”

“Does Remus need you right now?” Lily asked, nervously watching the stairs. Peter shook his head, letting himself settle on the arm of the couch, looking rather fatigued.

“Not … now,” Peter sighed, as if wishing Remus did need him. Wishing there was something he could actively do. At least, that was how Sirius felt, especially because Remus had been the one who had done it for him. “For something like this, he just needs to be alone for a moment. Just at first. It was kind of a common occurrence when we lived in the dorms.” 

“What is it, Pete?” James asked. Sirius leaned against an armchair, legs feeling heavy.

Peter took a preparatory breath, wringing his hands. “Remus was taken from his bedroom when he was almost five years old by a man named Fenrir Greyback.”

“He was _kidnapped_?” Lily whispered with a horrified expression, hand shooting up to cover her mouth. Peter nodded, absently worrying his bottom lip, which was still quivering.

“Today was Greyback’s probation hearing. They let him out.” A collection of various breaths released into the otherwise stagnant air – Lily gasped, James sighed. Sirius went still.

“Oh my God,” James breathed out, falling back onto the ottoman.

“Remus’ mum sent him a text. The message popped up on his lock screen,” Peter said, lowering his head again. It was almost as if Peter felt guilty for having seen the message at all, for having to break that news to Remus. But Sirius had seen how devastated Peter had been. He had seen how Peter tried to warn him. He had seen how Peter had immediately gone to Remus.

“It’s alright, Pete,” Sirius assured him, leaning down so that Peter would look him in the face. “You had to tell him.” Peter bared his teeth, wrinkling his nose.

“I wished I hadn’t.” For a long time, the four of them stayed in silence as they tried not to think about the horror that Remus was going through upstairs. Alone. That was all Sirius could focus on, that Remus was going through this _alone_.

“I want to see him,” Sirius suddenly stated, and Peter looked up in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, at first looking very much like he disagreed with that idea. Instead, a curious look crossed over his face, and he opened his mouth again, with different intent.

“I think that might actually be what he needs. But there’s something you should know.”

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

Sirius had caught him staring. All Remus could do was try to play it off by pretending that he had been focused on the cigarette in Sirius’ mouth, which was _true_. The cigarette just wasn’t the part he was most interested in. _Why_ was he such a fucking disaster?

“Got another one of those?” he asked, nodding to the cigarette as he walked over toward Sirius, and Sirius nodded, patting around on his pockets to find the pack. Remus’ eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement of Sirius’ hands, though he really wished they hadn’t. The edge of Sirius’ shirt lifted as he arched to get the pack from his back pocket, giving Remus the barest glimpse of the tiniest sliver of pale waist above the waistband of Sirius’ boxers. Oh, fuck.

To light the cigarette for Remus, Sirius held it to the end of his own, pulling in a huge breath to stoke the ashes. The way his cheeks collapsed in made his whole face look like an oil painting – the shadowy contours of his dark stubble contrasted against his sharp, highlighted cheekbones. When he glanced up, he added the luminous sheen of his silver eyes under long, dark lashes, and Remus reminded himself to make a note of that _exact_ look. 

“All yours, Moony,” Sirius crooned, the chorus of his voice an octave lower than Remus was ready for it to be, as he held out the cigarette between his first two fingers, the same way he smoked. Without putting too much thought, Remus plucked the cigarette from Sirius’ outstretched hand, only recognizing that he had brushed against Sirius’ skin once he watched Sirius swallow rather firmly right after. He would have apologized if not for the focused way Sirius’ gaze stayed tight to Remus’. Was that a rise in his brow just then?

It gave Remus a little unforeseen confidence. “Thanks, Pads,” he grinned, going so far as to wink at Sirius as he rested against the balcony railing next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he was validated. There was definitely a rise in Sirius’ sharp, high-arching brow. It was a _problem_.

“Do you two really need nicknames for your nicknames?” James asked with playful irritation that the names he had created were being defiled. _Pet names_ , Remus said in the back of his head, and then had to shut that thought down immediately. Instead, he laughed.

“You’re just jealous because Prongs is only one syllable,” he grinned, poising the cigarette before his lips to take a much needed, _very_ long drag. Despite how he tried not to notice, he _knew_ that Sirius was watching him smoke, just the same as he’d been doing moments before. 

It couldn’t be for the same reason. Honestly, this problem was likely not as big as Remus was making it out to be. He just needed a good _release_ and then he could treat Sirius like a normal fucking human being, instead of acting like a psychopath whenever he was around.

To remove himself from this situation, to keep himself from doing something stupid that would make Sirius disappear forever, Remus started back inside. Quickly, he realized the lit cigarette was still in his mouth, smoke still swirling up into the fringe that hung over his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to smoke in the actual confines of James’ bedroom.

He turned back to set his cigarette in the ashtray. Sirius was so close behind him that when Remus turned, Sirius ran straight into his chest, cigarette ash catching on the collar of Remus’ shirt. As a reflex, Remus reached out as Sirius stumbled back, slipping both hands around Sirius’ waist. And that was the biggest fucking mistake he had ever made in his goddamn life.

Because Sirius was _warm_. Remus didn’t know why that surprised him the way it did. Remus had touched Sirius before, after all, but that was when he was rather preoccupied with trying to save Sirius’ life. Maybe it was the posh, pale colour of his skin that made it seem like he was too ethereal to produce heat. But that was so wrong. Because he was _so_ warm. 

And soft. _God_ , the give of his skin, even underneath the fabric of his t-shirt, was so clear, it was as if there was nothing between Remus’ hand and Sirius’ waist. The suppleness of his skin wasn’t perpetual, though. As Remus’ thumb brushed slightly over Sirius’ severe, protruding ribs, he started to remember how dreadfully thin the boy in his arms really was.

Every thought happened in a millisecond. It only took that long for Remus to realize that he was holding onto someone who was extremely touch averse. His eyes widened.

“Ah, Sirius, I’m so s–” His apology stalled as he rapidly realized that Sirius wasn’t having the same _violent_ reaction that Remus expected him to have. In fact, Sirius’ fingers were latched somewhat desperately to the center seam of Remus’ shirt, clutching the buttons tightly. The look on Sirius’ face was still panic, but not that world-crushing panic it had been the night before when he knew Remus had touched him. This panic was more out of sheer confusion.

Whether he subconsciously intended to or not, Remus didn’t know, but his fingers tensed a little around the curve of Sirius’ waist. Maybe it was to see how Sirius would react. Maybe it was just out of his own selfish desire to hold Sirius a little longer. Either way, Sirius didn’t pull away. Instead, he did something that Remus could not have expected.

“Oh, _no_ ,” he exhaled sharply, snapping his mouth closed quickly afterward, crushing the cigarette still between his teeth. “Eh, no, no, it’s alright, Moony. My fault,” he stammered nervously, releasing himself from Remus’ grip and retreating back to the safety of the balcony railing. For a moment more, Remus just looked at him, brows creased between his eyes.

“You sure you’re alright?” Remus asked. This was _not_ the reaction he’d have predicted.

“Yeah, definitely,” Sirius agreed, albeit a little breathlessly. His fingers had the slightest shake when they removed the cigarette from his mouth, tapping it out on the ashtray.

Something had changed in Sirius. Remus desperately needed to know what. As his own personal test, he took the cigarette from his own lips and leaned in toward Sirius, reaching across him to smother the ashes of his smoke. Sirius held his breath.

“If you say so,” Remus said, careful not to touch Sirius directly, but watching the way Sirius’ eyes slowly trailed down to where Remus’ breath was puffing out against his abdomen. Another rise in Sirius’ brow. When Remus walked back into James’ room, he heard the unmistakable sound of a sharp pull of air into a pair of nervous lungs.

Okay, so he was wrong. And he had just definitively fucked up. Sirius was now avoiding him completely. Not to a point that anyone else would notice, and he hadn’t really touched him in the first place, but there was definitely something awkward that wasn’t there before.

Whenever Remus spoke, Sirius set his jaw firmly, even if he replied to what Remus said. If Remus stood next to him, even at arm’s length, Sirius’s whole body immediately tensed. It might have been unnoticeable by everyone else, but Remus had been dealing with this huge fucking problem all day, and he had been paying much too close attention to Sirius to not notice.

Their little band of merry men (and Lily) migrated throughout the house, landing in the kitchen, so James and Peter could eat more. How they had room, Remus had no idea. As they filed out of the kitchen, Sirius was last in line, just behind Remus. When the other three had gone, Remus paused, bracing himself against the doorframe, only to realize that likely seemed very confining, so he lowered his arm. Sirius’ eyes went wide before Remus could even speak.

“Pads, could I talk to you?” Remus asked in a single, empty breath.

“Sure, Moony, what’s up?” Sirius smiled, but the overwhelming panic was still very evident on his face. Remus took a breath, trying to figure out where to start.

“I’m sorry,” seemed like a good place, so he went with that. Sirius balked.

“Why?” he asked, with extreme emphasis.

Remus let out a breath through his nostrils. “Earlier when I …” Good _God_ , he couldn’t even say the word _touch_ to Sirius. “… touched you.” Sirius’ back straightened a little.

“It’s fine,” Sirius said without hesitation. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” Remus rebutted. “I know it made you uncomfortable. You’ve been …” he trailed off, realizing he couldn’t use the word _distant_ with someone he’d only known for a day and a half. “Anyway,” he continued on the same breath. “I _am_ sorry.” The tension slacked from Sirius’ shoulders, leaving him looking like there hadn’t been any energy in his body to begin with.

“No, _Remus_ ,” he said, quite emphatically. “That’s not –” Just then, the kitchen door swung open, and Peter walked in, pulling the door closed behind him. The lively pink usually present in Peter’s cheeks was completely absent. He looked like a cadaver.

“ _Pete_.” Remus said, lungs tight. Peter slowly drew his eyes up from the floor to meet Remus’ and the blue of his eyes was flat, dead.

“Please stay in the kitchen, Remus,” he pleaded with a dreadful knot obstructing the words in his throat. For a moment, Remus tilted his head, perplexed. Only for a moment.

 _Oh_. Where there had once been air in his lungs now felt like sawdust, thick and choking and arid. He’d been focused so much on Sirius today that he forgot completely – the entire reason Pete had been trying to distract him yesterday by bringing him to James’ party.

“It was _today_ ,” Remus said, as the breath that should have been keeping him upright fell singly from his lips. By the look on Peter’s face, he _knew_ what Peter wasn’t saying. But they couldn’t have. After what that sadist had _done_? No, they couldn’t have.

In a rage, he flew from the kitchen, hearing the door fall loudly against the wall behind it, but he didn’t look back. With quaking hands, he picked up his mobile and unlocked it. There was a new text from Mum. Tears sprung into his eyes as he opened it.

_“I’m so sorry, Remmy. They granted his probation.”_

His eyes went blank as he stared at the screen. Probation. That animal was _loose_ , on the English streets. Because of good fucking behavior. How could they not remember what he did?

“Moony?” James called out, but it was muffled. As if James was very, _very_ far away. His eyes started to go dark. If he didn’t absolve this panic in his chest, he was going to pass out.

“I …” he started to explain, but his voice seemed so loud in his head. Was he yelling? He fucking felt like yelling. Felt like screaming. “I didn’t think he’d … how could … why did they …”

A hand was pressed against his back, and he flinched, a moment away from turning around to deck the arsehole who had done this to him, until he remembered where he was. He was with James and Lily and Peter and Sirius. It was _Peter’s_ hand on his back.

“Talk to me, Remus,” Peter begged, terror in his voice. He let himself turn, knowing that Sirius was standing right there with Peter, knowing that Sirius would see how broken Remus was over this, even though he was supposed to be strong for Sirius. He didn’t look up at either of them. The strength in his hands gave out and his phone fell from them, shattering with a sickening crunch against the wood floor. He retreated to the stairs, and Peter followed.

Once behind closed doors, he absolutely fell apart. Bitter, scalding tears poured down his cheeks as he paced angrily from wall to wall, clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to not put either of them through the plaster walls of James’ guest bedroom. Scars that hadn’t had feeling since he was in grade school had started to burn holes through his skin.

Just as Pete came into the room, closing the door carefully behind him, Remus let out a wrathful howl, scraping and clawing at the insides of his throat. He had to put his fist through _something_. He settled on the mattress, throwing his whole weight into it, knuckles first, and he felt a few springs pop and burst, the wood frame creaking underneath the pressure.

“Remus, I’m so sorry,” Peter whispered, and Remus could hear the tears choking his voice. Remus kept throwing punches into the mattress in rapid-fire.

“How could they let him _go_?” he shouted, his voice breaking. “They _know_ what he did to me! And they think he’s fucking _changed_?” The mattress wasn’t giving him the force he needed, it was too soft. He moved the trajectory of his fists over to the flat, wood surface of the bed frame and kept punching. His knuckles cracked, and he kept going.

“Remus, you’re bleeding,” Peter stammered, after only a few throws of Remus’ fist. “You have to stop. _Please_.” Remus didn’t stop. His hand was numb, he couldn’t even feel the blood running across his fingers. Finally, Peter reached out, holding Remus’ forearm as still as he could.

Remus looked over at him, tears spilling out over his reddened cheeks. “Look at me, Pete,” he sighed heavily. “Look at what he did to me. And they let him _go_.” Without pause, Peter grabbed a fistful of Remus’ shirt and pulled him against his chest. And Remus sobbed.

“There’s nothing I can say to make this better,” Peter admitted with a sniffle, and Remus wasn’t sure Peter was admitting it to him any more than he was admitting it to himself.

“Why did it have to be today?” Remus mumbled, face buried in Peter’s jumper. It smelled like stale garlic, second-hand smoke, and juniper-scented soap. “I was supposed to be the one who made it out the other side. I was supposed to be _better_.”

“If you’re talking about Sirius, I think it’s important for him to see that it won’t ever be one-hundred percent the same again,” Peter said, rubbing wide circles against Remus’ back as Remus tried to time each breath to the turn of one circle. “I think he should see that sometimes you have to work really hard to stay sane, and even then, it doesn’t always go the way it should.”

Remus took in a staggered breath. “I don’t want Sirius to see _this_.”

“What should I tell them?” Peter asked, adding a clinical sort of uptick to his voice, which he often did in an effort to soothe Remus, as well as himself. It usually worked.

“Tell them the truth,” Remus let out a long, shaking breath, and it swirled back at him from the compartment he’d created against Peter’s chest. “I need a moment alone, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, tightening his hold on Remus’ shoulders. Pulling away, Remus nodded, dragging his hands across his face in an attempt to dry it. Without Pete to support him, his whole body went heavy, slumping down to the floor next to the bed.

“Tell them I’m sorry,” he said, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. It didn’t budge. “I’m fucking up everything.” Peter knelt in front of him.

“Don’t say that,” he said with a stern expression, but it went soft quickly. “This house is full of your best friends. All we want is for you to be happy, Moony.” A crooked smile splashed over Remus’ lips, wet with leftover tears, and he nodded.

“You’re the best one of them all, Wormtail.” Peter puffed out his cheeks, the pink colour finally returning to his full cheeks. The relief in Remus’ chest at the sight of it went deep.

“If I didn’t love that nickname so much, I would hate it.” A light chuckle bubbled up from his throat as he stood. “You sure you’re okay?” His blue eyes filled with worry.

Remus nodded. “I just need a second to pull myself together.” With one last backward glance, Peter shut the door behind him. Remus heard him trod down the stairs.

Alone in the room, alone with his thoughts and his memories, the tears found Remus again, despite how violently he struggled to keep them at bay. The group had been talking about all staying over at James’ again, but Remus wasn’t sure he could. Not after this.

He needed to call his mum. She was probably worried about him. Realistically, Remus wondered if there was ever a moment of the day when she was _not_ worried about him. He couldn’t imagine how hard this had to be on his parents, to hear that the man who had literally scarred your child for life was free to do it all over again, should he feel so inclined.

The thought that Fenrir could pop up in his life again, at any moment, settled a terror the weight of a planet on top of Remus’ chest. It was becoming hard to breathe again. He tried to think of other things, _any_ other things, to decrease the size of this planet, but nothing seemed to help. Not the thought of Pete, or of James, or even remembering the soft, gentle way Lily had spoken his name that day in Classic Literature.

And then he thought of Sirius. Suddenly, the weight shifted. It was still there, but it was different. Made up of new parts and stranger substances. It moved, and the collapse of his lungs no longer felt as imminent. Instead, the weight settled over his heart and, while it was still heavy and thick, it wasn’t burdensome, it wasn’t crushing. It was warm, like Sirius’ skin.

Remus pulled his legs to his chest, craning his neck deep to bury his face between his knees. While the thought of Sirius was comforting, it was also disheartening. Sirius was supposed to see Remus as a survivor of trauma, not a victim of it. He was supposed to be the success story.

The door creaked open, and Remus let out a breath. It felt suffocating, the way his exhalation stayed tucked inside the small space with him. Like breathing into a paper bag.

“Just a minute more, Pete, I promise,” Remus sighed.

“It’s _me_ , Moony.” It was _Sirius’_ voice. And it was _right_ in front of him, like Sirius had settled down onto the floor with him. Remus instinctively tensed, tightening the hold on his knees to keep himself closed off. Damn Peter for letting Sirius see him in this state.

“Sirius,” he started to say, his voice quivering, but Sirius interrupted.

“Please look at me,” Sirius whispered, his voice low and pleading. No, no, no. It was no longer about being seen as a victim to trauma, it had become being seen as the subject of affection. And how could Sirius look at him affectionately after seeing him like _this_?

“I really don’t want you to see this.” Remus breathed out a warning. Sirius didn’t pause.

“This is important. I _need_ to see you.” In surprise, Remus lifted his head. As he did, the worry in Sirius’ expression softened into a relieved smile. A slight, nervous swallow bobbed the Adam’s apple of Sirius throat as he timidly reached his hand out. Remus went still.

Sirius’ hand slid over Remus’ forearm, where it was perched on top of his knee, and Remus couldn’t stop the pull of breath that sucked into his lungs. His eyes flicked up to find Sirius was already looking determinedly back at him, chest moving unsteadily.

The unease on Sirius’ face made Remus sure that he would pull away at any moment. He didn’t. Instead, without moving his hand from Remus’ skin, he pushed up Remus’ arm over the rolled sleeve of his shirt, squeezing at the side of his shoulder, the same way James usually did.

His elbow jutted sharply against Remus’ knee, so Remus straightened out his legs in front of him to give Sirius whatever space he needed. When he did, Sirius did the most unexpected thing. Without the slightest hesitation, he slipped his hand around Remus’ neck and pulled him to his chest. He _hugged_ him. Remus’ eyes widened, tears spilling from them.

At first, it was a delicate hug, a cautious hug, bordering awkward. Sirius’ skin practically vibrated with the anxiety of having Remus so close to him. And Remus tried to stay as still as possible, he didn’t want to scare Sirius off – this was a _big_ step for him.

But he was so, _so_ warm and the pressure within Sirius’ arms increased just enough that Remus wondered if Sirius held him out of his _own_ need, rather than Remus’. It became a bit more evident when Remus felt Sirius ball both fists into the folds of the back of Remus’ shirt.

With this reinforcement, Remus absently let his hands slide up Sirius’ back, his fingertips rising and falling with the curves of Sirius’ spine. At the touch of Sirius’ skin underneath his hands, Remus’ mind went blank. He forgot that he was trying to be careful with Sirius, forgot that Sirius was wary of Remus’ touch. All he could focus on was getting closer. 

Remus tensed his arms, pulling Sirius in further, nuzzling his face deeply into the curve of Sirius’ throat while letting out a deep, grateful sigh into Sirius’ skin. Being this close to someone reminded him that he wasn’t just a walking body of scars. It reminded him that he was worthy of a touch that wasn’t designed to tear the skin from his bones.

On an inhale, Remus breathed in the scents buried in Sirius’ shirt, expecting to find a varying collection, as he did with Peter, but there was only smoke. No distinct floral scent from his brand of shampoo, no comforting smell of a warm meal. Nothing but cigarette smoke.

“ _Moony_ ,” Sirius suddenly breathed out, the fists buried in Remus’ shirt releasing their grip, flattening out against Remus’ back, against his neck, working up into his hair. It left Remus leaning into his touch, craning his neck into Sirius’ hand, the stubble from Sirius’ cheek grating softly against Remus’ temple. He let his eyes drift closed, reveling in it.

The tears slipping down the back of Remus’ collar reminded him that this was _Sirius_ , the same boy who had a terrific meltdown only the night before because of a friendly squeeze on his neck. Yet, there Remus was, his greedy hands covering every inch of Sirius’ skin he could, breathing him in and taking complete advantage, and Sirius was _crying_. Oh, God.

Remus tensed. “Sirius, I …” Before he could pull away, Sirius’ fingers drove a little further into the back of Remus’ hair, scratching softly, letting Remus’ hair slip through them.

“Tell me you’re alright.” Sirius’ strained voice buzzed against Remus’ cheek, still pressed tight to Sirius’ throat. Remus let out a ragged breath, but the tension in his shoulders melted off.

“I’m not alright, Pads. I’m really not.” It wasn’t going to be alright for a long time. Not until he _knew_ Fenrir wouldn’t come back. Sirius’ touch was the only thing dulling that thought, but he couldn’t let it go on, knowing what it was doing to Sirius. “But you … you’re …” he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He tried to pull away again, but Sirius drew him back in. After pausing for quite some time, Sirius whispered into Remus’ hair.

“Am I … making it worse?” Remus replied immediately, an unintentional clutch of his wrist nearly pulling Sirius down into his lap.

“Right now, you’re the only thing holding me together.”

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

“I think that might actually be what he needs. But there’s something you should know,” Peter said, watching Sirius carefully. “Because I’m not sure you’ll want to do it.”

“Anything,” Sirius replied before Peter had even stopped speaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched James’ eyebrow rise and a quiet smile cover Lily’s lips. “Tell me what it is.”

Peter took a breath. “You have to be able to touch him.” Sirius’ mind went empty.

“ _Touch_ him?” he replied on a short breath. The thing he had been trying to avoid doing all day. Except he’d only been avoiding Remus’ touch because of how desperately he ached for it, because of how uncontrolled it made him feel. He’d been avoiding it because he _liked_ it.

Liking a touch, _anyone’s_ touch, was a dangerous notion. The last time he’d touched someone, even out of his own free will at the time, it had been skewed and perverted and twisted until Sirius hadn’t been given a choice in the matter. _Touch me or I’ll ruin your life._

_Touch me or I’ll ruin your brother’s life._

Of all the people that Sirius had ever met, Remus was the one person he knew, absolutely, doubtlessly _knew_ would never say those words to him. Remus was the exception to every safety rule that Sirius made for himself. Maybe it was safe to touch Remus. A little.

Peter nodded. “When Remus gets like this, he responds best to physical comfort. And I know that’s not your strong suit.” Peter paused. “So, you don’t have to –”

“I’ll do it,” Sirius interrupted again. Peter raised both eyebrows.

“Are you sure?” Sirius nodded. Taking a deep breath, he made his way to the stairs as Pete called after him which room to look for. The thought crossed his mind that maybe Remus didn’t want to see him. Maybe Remus wouldn’t want Sirius to touch him. That thought burned an absolute hole into his gut – the thought that Remus might not want Sirius to help.

Without knocking, he opened the door. He wasn’t sure what he expected, and he thought he would be ready for it, whatever it was, but seeing Remus with his lanky legs pulled tight to his chest, his face buried in his knees – the hole in his gut seared deeper.

Remus didn’t look up, so Sirius sat down in front of him, tucking his feet underneath him as he sat. His eyes caught a splash of red along Remus’ knuckles and he swallowed hard at the sight of it. Though, when he glanced around the room, there were no holes in the wall.

Finally, Remus spoke. “Just a minute more, Pete, I promise.” Sirius took in a shaking breath, keeping his eyes transfixed on Remus, to gauge his response.

“It’s me, Moony,” he replied softly. Remus immediately tensed, his knuckles whitening from where they were folded tightly over his knees.

“Sirius,” he said, his voice cautionary. Sirius wasn’t having it.

“Please look at me,” he said, hearing the whine in his own voice and caring so little that it was there. He wanted Remus to know how desperately he worried about him.

“I really don’t want you to see this,” Remus replied, his hollow voice echoing from the cavern that his body had created within itself. His golden curls ruffled as he shook his head.

“This is important,” Sirius argued straightaway. “I _need_ to see you.” As if caught off guard, Remus looked up with what looked like confusion on his face. Sirius felt the relief wash over his whole expression at the same time as a violent ache settled into his chest. The red circles around Remus’ eyes reminded him that Remus had been crying.

There was no need for him to talk himself into doing what Peter had asked of him. His automatic, natural reaction was to reach out to Remus, so he let himself move. It didn’t mean the anxiety wasn’t there. It was just dulled by his overwhelming need to _protect_ _Remus_.

As soon as Sirius’ hand reached the bare skin of Remus’ forearm, uncovered by the rolled-up sleeves of his button down, Remus took in a sharp breath. His eyes instinctually flicked up to Sirius’ face, only to find that Sirius was already looking back.

The agonizing, guttural need to jerk his hand away was still there. Sirius could feel it pulsing in his fingertips against Remus’ skin. He pushed through, if for no other reason than spite. It wasn’t fair that this basic human need – to touch, and to be touched – had been stripped from him without his consent. So, he pushed through. For himself, and for Remus.

As his touch moved over the sleeve of Remus’ shirt, up to his shoulder, Remus’ eyes seemed to flicker erratically over Sirius. It was obvious that Remus didn’t know what to _do_ in response to Sirius’ touch. After all, deliberate contact had previously been out of the question. 

Sirius did the only thing he knew would assure Remus that this was alright – he squeezed Remus’ shoulder, the same way he had seen James do multiple times throughout the day. Each time it happened, the tension seemed to melt from Remus’ shoulders. It was one of the few times that Sirius thought about someone other than Remus being allowed to touch him.

James’ secret trick worked. Remus’ head rolled just a bit to one side, toward Sirius’ touch, the muscles in his arms laxing underneath Sirius’ hands. That subtle give of Remus’ skin made Sirius realize how dreadfully he _missed_ this – discovering the unique warmth generated by another body, sensing every tiny change in the sinew under the skin, letting the rhythm of another person’s breath command control of his own. He missed it _viciously_.

In his childhood, his parents hadn’t been the doting kind. If Sirius considered it, he wasn’t sure that his parents had _ever_ told him that they loved him. They had never even told him that they were proud of him. Certainly not in the last year. His mother had slapped him more times than she had ever hugged him, but that wasn’t saying much, because she _never_ hugged him. The only physical comfort in his life came in the form of an uncle on his mother’s side that rarely visited, mostly because of how severely the siblings bickered every time he came for holidays.

When his Uncle Alphard visited, Sirius thought nothing in the world could compare to the hugs that he gave. They were so strong that they squeezed the breath from Sirius’ lungs, so deep that even Sirius’ toes became warmer, so full that Sirius’ feet couldn’t stay on the ground.

Every time Uncle Alphard left, Sirius cried. His mother would snap at him to grow up and be a man, and Sirius would dutifully obey, as he always did. He would go to bed without supper, dreaming of what it would be like to go and live with Uncle Alphard, what it would be like to be held that like every day, what it would be like to be loved more than just once a year.

Suddenly, Sirius realized how angry he was. If his mother hadn’t been the hateful wench she was, he wouldn’t have had to try so hard to make her love him. He wouldn’t have gone to a school he hated for a profession he didn’t enjoy under the supervision of someone who would inevitably use Sirius’ naivety and obedience to _his_ own advantage. And Sirius was _angry_.

Because right now, when all he wanted to do was to be of some comfort to his friend, all he could concentrate on was his screaming desire to run away. It wasn’t fair to Sirius, and it certainly wasn’t fucking fair to Remus. Remus had been through more than Sirius would likely ever understand. Just imagining how five-year-old Remus got the scars that would stay with him for the rest of his life burrowed an abscess into Sirius’ heart. The empty terror on Remus’ face when he heard the news, the sounds of broken sobs being held into his lungs, the darkened blood on Remus’ angry fist – it tore Sirius to shreds. All he wanted to do was make it go away.

His jaw tensed, hot tears threatening against his lashes, and his arm stiffened unintentionally, digging into the bone of Remus’ knee. He almost expected Remus to push him away. But, _no_. Instead, Remus flattened his leg to the floor, giving Sirius the space to get closer, but he left the decision to take that space completely up to Sirius. And Sirius didn’t even have to stop to consider the implication, didn’t have to wonder if he _wanted_ to hold Remus. Oh, he _did_.

When he slipped his fingers around Remus’ neck and they met the softer skin hidden at the base of his skull, plush with fine, golden hair, he didn’t feel the half-expected drop of an anxious stomach. What he felt was relief. Acting on that, he sharply pulled Remus to his chest, holding him tightly. Bitter tears ran with stinging warmth down Sirius’ cheeks, splashing over the back of Remus’ rumpled collar. He thought he heard Remus let out a breath.

It was all lanky limbs and sharp angles, as if Sirius had forgotten _how_ to give a hug after his uncle passed away. And after everything that happened _since_ then. Remus was tense in his arms, and Sirius knew he could feel the waves of anxiety pouring from Sirius’ skin. But he didn’t pull away, so Sirius burrowed in further, fervently pulling the fabric of Remus’ shirt into his fists, as if he were afraid Remus were about to be snatched away from him. Like everything else.

And Peter was right about Remus – he absolutely responded to physical comfort. His hands wound up Sirius’ back, starting at the base of his spine, the length of his hand closely following every dip, every ridge. There was little space left between them, but Remus’ muscles automatically strained to pull Sirius in anyway, and Remus nestled his face deep into the crook of Sirius’ neck. His breath echoed out warm against Sirius’ skin in wordless gratitude.

The learned behavior of sharply pulling away when people got too close came roaring back, and Sirius struggled to stuff it down. No magnitude of it could compare with the crushing need to quell the slight tremble still vibrating out from Remus’ shoulders. Neither could it compete with the inexplicable comfort Sirius found in the way the curve of Remus’ elbows matched perfectly to the slope of Sirius’ waist. Or the placating lines that Remus drew between Sirius’ shoulder blades with his bitten-down fingernails. Or the way focusing on the changing pressure of Remus’ chest against his reminded him the rhythm in which to breathe.

“ _Moony_.” Sirius exhaled, returning his thanks in the same way Remus had given it, by speaking it into his skin with breath. He had come up here to pay Remus back for saving Sirius from his panic attack the night before, but now had ended up even further indebted to Remus than before. Without doing a thing, the golden-haired boy in his arms reminded him of the same thing that Uncle Alphard always had. That a touch could mean something other than a reminder of his usefulness. That a touch didn’t have to mean that someone _wanted_ something from him.

As if reminded of Sirius’ history, Remus started to pull away, an apology ready on the tip of his tongue. “Sirius. I …” Suddenly, Sirius’ fear swung wildly in the opposite direction, and he couldn’t cope with the thought of Remus _not_ being in his arms. Not yet. More than that, he was sure that Remus was only letting go because of _Sirius_ – because Remus was afraid that he was pushing this contact onto Sirius. The truth was, Remus _needed_ him. It wouldn’t have mattered, even if he bristled at the intimacy. He would stay until Remus was ready to let go.

To keep him close, Sirius slid his fingers further into the back of Remus’ hair, absently letting each silky curl slip through his fingers. Remus’ body softened against him again, he snuggled down into Sirius’ arms, the stubble of his cheek grating against Sirius’ throat.

“Tell me you’re alright,” Sirius whispered, but he knew the answer. After what Peter had told them, Sirius didn’t know how Remus was even as _alright_ as he was to begin with.

“I’m _not_ alright,” Remus confessed softly, with a staggering breath that pooled out in the pit above Sirius’ collarbone. Sirius stifled a shudder, both at the sudden spike of heat against his skin and at the broken, empty sound of Remus’ voice. “I’m really not.”

He knew the answer to the next question, too. Only, he really didn’t want to be wrong about that answer. He paused for a long time before asking, “Am I making it worse?”

Remus did not pause. “Right now, you’re the only thing holding me together.” And suddenly, the physical contact wasn’t dangerous or frightening or bordering unbearable. It was the thing that was holding Remus together. All Sirius wanted to do was hold him together.

“Let me do something _more_ ,” Sirius offered, high off this feeling of doing something right, of being useful in a way that _he_ chose. “Talk to me. Hit me. _Anything_.” He went a little overboard, but Remus let out a short laugh, working a smile out from Sirius’ lips.

“What did Pete tell you?” Remus asked, his body becoming a little more lax in Sirius’ arms, to the point that Sirius wondered if he wanted to be let go. Remus’ arms around Sirius’ waist still held their grip, however, so Sirius maintained his.

“He told us about Greyback,” Sirius said, trying to speak the name delicately, but he could still feel the way Remus stiffened in his arms when he heard it. “About his probation.”

Remus sniffled, letting out a breath that swirled down into Sirius’ collar. “I was with him for eight months,” he admitted softly, and Sirius felt the air fall from his lungs. _Eight_ _months_.

“Oh, God, Moony,” Sirius exhaled heavily, and Remus took in a rather deep breath in response. So deep that the sudden withdrawal of his previously heated breath caused a chill to run down Sirius’ spine, and Sirius struggled to stifle the shiver that followed it.

“My father works for a newspaper in Wales. Well, _worked_ ,” Remus said, voice trembling as he spoke. “Said something in his column that Fenrir misconstrued and that was that.” Sirius noticed, but didn’t mention the fact that Remus used the man’s first name. It evoked a sickening sort of familiarity that Sirius didn’t want to address.

In fact, Sirius didn’t know what to say at all. He considered apologizing, but it wouldn’t mean anything. No doubt Remus had heard every miserable turn of phrase in the English language from people who didn’t know what else to say. So, he remained quiet.

“You know what people ask me the most?” Remus laughed, but it was hardly a laugh at all, with a tone sardonic and cruel. “They ask about the scars.” He let out a short breath. “They find out what happened, and the first thing they ask about is the scars.”

“I won’t ask,” Sirius said quickly. How he got the scars didn’t matter to Sirius. It wasn’t his business. Hell, it wasn’t anybody’s business. Remus let out a huff of air through his nostrils.

“I’ll just tell you and then you can be my buffer. Jump in and answer the question for me so I don’t have to,” Remus scoffed. “That’s what Pete does.” He stopped to laugh – a real laugh this time, and it warmed Sirius’ skin. “Except Pete always comes up with some unbelievable alternative that never makes any sense.” Sirius caught himself smiling, the panic from being so close to Remus drifting off with every moment more that Remus spoke.

“Tell me one of those instead,” Sirius countered, and Remus chuckled.

“My favourite one was that I wasn’t kidnapped, actually, but _abducted_. By aliens,” Remus said, and Sirius could feel the smile in Remus’ cheeks from against his throat, but it faded as he continued. “Turns out people don’t want to hear the truth, really. It’s worse than they expect.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Moons.” Sirius played with Remus’ hair, still in his fingers.

Remus sighed. “No, you’re one of the few who matters enough to know.” Before Sirius could register that thought, Remus went on. “I don’t even know what my father’s comment in the paper was, I never cared to know. Fenrir took it to mean that my father had called him a … ‘ _soulless, wild animal deserving of nothing but death_.’ He repeated it to me. Over and over.” By then, Remus’ shoulders had begun to shake, his voice rising and falling without rhythm.

“Remus …” Sirius tried to stop him, but Remus kept going.

“He said he would show my father what a _wild animal_ could do,” he mumbled into Sirius’ skin, gripping hard onto the back of his shirt. “Used every imaginable tool to do it.”

“Remus,” Sirius repeated, a little more insistently, to no avail.

“He told me he would turn _me_ into a wild animal.” The pace of Remus’ speech doubled, his hands vibrated against Sirius’ back. “That would teach my father a lesson, he would say as he’d drag an ice pick down my cheek, or stab a hole through my lip with a safety pin, or break the bridge of my nose with his ... with his …” Remus had begun to sob, voice failing as his chest heaved, struggling to catch a breath through the quaking of his frame against Sirius.

There was nothing that Sirius could say that would change anything. He couldn’t take the past from Remus, he couldn’t promise him a brighter future. But he could hold him. All he could do was hold him. And that was all he wanted to do, anyway.

“I’m here, Moony,” Sirius whispered, burying his fingers deeper into Remus’ golden curls and tightening his hold on the fragile boy shuddering in his arms. As he moved, every feature of Remus’ face, still buried in the curve of Sirius’ neck, brushed against Sirius’ skin – the stubble on his cheek grated along Sirius’ neck, the full length of Remus’ nose rolled across Sirius’ jawline, the unmistakable softness of Remus’ lips dusted over his throat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Remus muttered, lips still to Sirius’ skin, and Sirius went very still. But the first thought in his head wasn’t the panic. It wasn’t a flashback of how violently he had been betrayed. No, the _very_ first thought in his head wasn’t a thought at all. It was an overwhelming desire to tilt his head, sigh with weighted breath, and let Remus _continue_.

The panic that followed was immediate and severe. It wasn’t just the panic from the contact, it wasn’t just dread of future contact. It was the terror of knowing how badly he _wanted_ it and what he would do to get it. It was the fear of losing Remus after it was all over. It was the pit in his stomach because he was supposed to be comforting Remus and all he could think about were Remus’ lips on his throat, imagining those lips in _many_ more places. It was the realization that Sirius had become the monster that he was taking ten Valium to be rid of. 

_Stop_ , his own voice resounded in his head. _It’s Remus. And he needs you._

It was only that thought that stayed him. Defiantly, he clenched his fist into Remus’ hair, trying not to rip himself away, trying to remind himself _who_ was in his arms. Trying to remind himself that right now, Remus _needed_ him. To hell with the debilitating panic. To hell with Ethan Carlisle. To hell with his whole goddamn life.

_Shit_. It wasn’t working. The panic was growing, spreading, _feeding_.

It wasn’t as if Remus didn’t _notice_. The moment his lips met Sirius’ skin, he pulled away sharply, despite Sirius still clinging desperately to him. Eyes wide, he swiped the back of one hand over his face before pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, pushing up into his eyes.

“ _Shit_ ,” Remus hissed, deliberately holding his gaze away from Sirius. “Sirius, I’m so sorry, I _really_ didn’t mean for …” The moment he looked up, he stopped. Sirius had already stood.

“I have to go,” Sirius said, hearing his own empty voice echo back at him.

_No,_ he screamed at himself, d _on’t you dare leave, you arsehole. Don’t fucking leave._

The clench in Remus’ jaw was slight, but noticeable, just before he pushed his hand through the stubble on his cheeks to cover up his mouth. He nodded, looking down.

Without any desire to, Sirius was running blindly through the house, vaguely hearing the shouts of James and Peter and Lily as he raced through the front door.

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

“Let me do something more,” Sirius said, and Remus almost looked up. “Talk to me. Hit me. Anything.” His voice was almost pleading, but Remus laughed it off.

“What did Pete tell you?” he wondered aloud, letting himself become a little more comfortable in Sirius’ arms. It was almost enough to make him fall asleep.

“He told us about Greyback.” Sirius spoke his name too softly, it wasn’t right. Hearing his name in Sirius’ harmonious voice wasn’t right. Remus fidgeted. “About his probation.”

There were things that Peter surely left out, Remus knew that. Peter was always so delicate with Remus’ history – never told anyone who didn’t need to know, never asked Remus unnecessary questions about his past. Because of that, Remus knew Sirius had heard only the baseline of the story. Just the minimal facts. And Remus needed him to know _everything_.

“I was with him for eight months,” Remus choked out. A dense exhale slipped from Sirius’ lips, Remus could feel the heat rolling all the way down his back.

“Oh, God, Moony,” he breathed out, and Remus was _so angry_ at himself for the wildly inappropriate way he responded to the way Sirius said those words. He was just so close, and so soft, and so _warm_. Taking a deep breath in, Remus continued, but didn’t ignore the slight tightening of the muscles at Sirius’ neck, the barely noticeable tremble in his jaw.

In an effort to distract himself, Remus kept talking. “My father works for a newspaper in Wales. Well, worked.” A wobble in his voice forced him to stop for a moment. “He said something in his column that Fenrir misconstrued and that was that.” If he hadn’t been so focused on the way Sirius’ fingers were toying with the fabric at the back of his shirt, Remus might’ve missed the way Sirius curled his fist at the mention of Fenrir’s name.

But he didn’t say anything, so Remus continued. “You know what people ask me the most?” Remus asked, an irritating twitch in his brow and a sarcastic huff of a laugh escaping from his lips. “They ask about the scars.” He had to take in a breath and let it out just as quickly, to convince himself to keep talking. “They find out what happened, and the first thing they ask about is the scars,” he muttered, absolutely lost to how unreasonably _cruel_ it was. To ask a _child_ , who had spent nearly a year in the dark, damp, miserable basement of a sociopath, **_how_**.

_How **exactly** was your skin ripped apart? _

_How badly were you mutilated, really? Describe it to me in detail._

_Relive it for me. Because I’m fucking **curious**._

“I won’t ask,” Sirius whispered, spreading his hands out wide against Remus’ back, tearing him out from the wicked misery he found himself falling into. It was almost a laugh that Remus breathed out through his nostrils. Sirius had no idea, absolutely none at all, of how grateful Remus was for him – in that moment, in every moment since they met.

Still bitter, he replied, “I’ll just tell you and then you can be my buffer,” he said, feeling the quiver in his voice settling, the claw around his heart loosening. “Jump in and answer the question for me so I don’t have to. That’s what Pete does.” He let out a little laugh, feeling the echo of his warm breath against Sirius’ chest swirling back at him. “Except Pete always comes up with some unbelievable alternative that never makes any sense.”

“Tell me one of those instead,” Sirius offered, and Remus wondered if he was smiling.

“My favourite one was that I wasn’t kidnapped, actually, but abducted. By aliens.” The smile crossed Remus’ face without his permission, but it couldn’t last. “Turns out people don’t want to hear the truth, really. It’s worse than they expect.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Moons.” From where his fingers were perched against the back of Remus’ neck, Remus could feel Sirius slipping Remus’ hair in and out of his fingers. The sigh that drew from Remus’ lips in response was far from intentional.

“No, you’re one of the few who matters enough to know,” he admitted to Sirius, hoping Sirius fully understood the message Remus was trying to relay.

_I want you to know my damage. I want to know yours._

_I want you to know because I want you to_ stay _._

Remus continued. “I don’t even know what my father’s comment in the paper was, I never cared to know. Fenrir took it to mean that my father had called him a … ‘ _soulless, wild animal deserving of nothing but death_.’ He repeated it to me, over and over.” God, even talking about it _now_ , almost twenty years after it was over, was enormously difficult. Especially to Sirius.

The words had started to fall out of Remus’ mouth on their own, he couldn’t even tell if they were in the right order. They vibrated to the frequency of his stress, wild and sharp and high. Remus tried to calm his shaking hands by burying them into the fabric of Sirius’ shirt, but it only reverberated back at him, like the angry breath he was panting out into Sirius’ skin.

“Remus …” Sirius spoke his name softly, but Remus practically didn’t hear him, lost in the horror of his past – five years old and padlocked in a slowly crumbling basement.

“He said he would show my father what a wild animal could _do_ ,” Remus sputtered out, the words flung from his lips vehemently. If he could just get rid of the words in his head, then maybe the memories would go, too. “That would teach my father a lesson, he would say, as he’d drag an ice pick down my cheek, or stab a hole through my lip with a safety pin, or break the bridge of my nose with his … with his …” The rest of the words wouldn’t come. He was afraid he would never be rid of them. They would stay with him forever, just like the paranoia and the nightmares and the endless hours of exhausting therapy.

He could feel himself sobbing against Sirius, angry at all the psychological damage he preserved, despite how hard he worked at keeping it stuffed down and buried. Angry at how simple it was to draw it all out in such a mangled heap. Most of all, he was angry at himself for being so weak, when Sirius needed him to be strong.

“I’m here, Moony,” Sirius said in a hushed voice, breathing into Remus’ hair, and tightening his hold on Remus’ trembling frame. But Remus wasn’t ready for the sudden intensity of Sirius’ embrace, and he shifted, the shortening of Sirius’ arms pulling Remus’ face further into the space of Sirius’ chest that he had buried himself into. Just as he breathed out in surprise, his nose became buried just under the curve of Sirius’ jaw, his lips firm against Sirius’ throat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he mumbled on instinct, before realizing that he just cursed into Sirius’ _skin_ and it probably felt _very_ fucking intentional. Remus panicked, now more than ever, and he quickly started to pull away. At first, however, Sirius’ fist tightened in Remus’ hair, and it _shook_ , like he was fighting with himself to keep it there. Remus made the decision for him, leaning back, but he couldn’t keep his alarm and irritation to himself. It stumbled from his lips in another curse.

“ _Shit_.” Remus breathed out through clenched teeth. Sirius had made so much progress, and Remus had most likely just fucked it all up. “Sirius, I’m so sorry,” he groaned, dragging the back of his hand over his tear-streaked face, before angrily pinching the bridge of his nose, cursing loudly in his mind. “I _really_ didn’t mean for …” When he looked up, Sirius was standing.

“I have to go,” he stated, his expression blank, his voice wiped clean.

No. _No_. God, how could he have fucked up this badly? Sirius _couldn’t_ leave.

It was selfish, but Remus wasn’t ready to be let _go_ yet. Not to mention how far Sirius had come in only the last few hours – going from recoiling sharply at any physical contact, to pulling Remus into the fullest, closest, longest hug Remus had ever been given. Suddenly, it was all over, and it was Remus’ fault. How could he expect Sirius to ever let himself get close again?

He _needed_ Sirius close – but it could be the panic talking.

Still, Remus wouldn’t argue. Accident or not, Sirius had trusted him with this terrifying closeness and Remus had fucked it up. Jesus Christ, he’d practically _kissed_ him. He couldn’t blame him – if this had happened to Remus within the first few years after they found him chained up in that basement, he would’ve fucking run, too. He didn’t become this needy, clingy _letch_ until Peter showed up and started hugging him every time he thought Remus was nervous.

With a violent clench in his jaw, Remus pushed his fingers over his guilty mouth, nodding and keeping his eyes to the floor to spare Sirius of anymore unwanted contact. Without another word, Sirius practically sprinted from the room, leaving Remus to let out the breath he was holding. He let it out _loudly_ , followed by more cursing, and flinging himself back on the carpet.

It was only a moment before he heard the thundering of footsteps charging up the stairs and into his room. James was the first one to speak. Remus didn’t open his eyes.

“Moony, what happened? Are you alright? Is Padfoot alright?” James’ voice bordered on a screech, and Remus couldn’t blame him.

“I … _I’m_ fine,” was all Remus could convince himself to say. The floorboards creaked underneath him and he opened a single eye to see Peter knelt on the floor at his side.

“Are you sure?” he asked, icy blue eyes brimming with concern. As an added measure, he placed his hand on Remus’ forearm, where it was resting on the carpet. Remus met his gaze.

“I fucked up, Pete,” he said on a soft sigh. Quickly, James knelt on Remus’ opposite side, with Lily kneeling next to him, down by Remus’ feet. She gave his knee a quick squeeze.

“Let’s take this one thing at a time, Remus,” she said, glancing warily at James as he opened his mouth to speak. “How are _you_? Pete told us what happened.”

Remus took a breath. “Yeah, alright, I’m _not_ fine.” With the arm not being held by Peter, Remus brought his hand up to cover his eyes. “Fenrir’s _out there_ , free as the fucking wind. He could pop up _anywhere_. You have no idea how terrifying that thought is.” His lips trembled as he let out the breath he’d taken in. Through his fingers, he saw his comrades exchange looks.

“Would he …” Peter started but shook his head to interrupt the thought.

“I don’t know,” Remus sighed in response. “That’s what scares me is I don’t _know_.” He moved his hand from over his eyes, letting his forearm fall across his forehead.

“Why did you say you fucked up, Moony?” James asked, peering down into his face, and Remus hoped he wasn’t blushing as violently as he thought, by the temperature in his cheeks.

“Fuck,” he groaned, screwing his eyes closed. “I … I got too close to Sirius.”

“I warned him that you were going to need to hold onto something,” Peter said, confusion in his expression and regret in his voice. “Was he surprised?”

“No, he …” Remus started, pausing a moment to chew on his lip, wondering how exactly to phrase this. “ _He_ hugged _me_. And he seemed fine. I just … I think I got too comfortable.” It wasn’t the full truth, but he wasn’t about to spell out that he put his lips on Sirius’ throat. That would spark more conversations than Remus was willing to discuss right then.

“I think the whole day was a little much for him,” Lily admitted softly. “New house, new friends, new touches. We might’ve overwhelmed the poor kid.” Remus turned to James.

“Will you text him? To make sure he’s alright?” James nodded, immediately pulling out his mobile as Remus sat upright. “God, I feel like such a prick.” So much for sitting upright – he immediately folded over, burying his face into his hands. Peter put a hand on his back.

“Moony, he volunteered to come up here,” Peter assured him.

“I’ll say,” James chimed in, still looking down at his mobile, apparently in the process of sending Sirius a text. “Pete told him what he had to do, and he said he would do _anything_. Literally said the word anything.” Remus looked up in surprise, just in time to see Lily elbow James lightly in the ribs, to which he responded with a ‘ _what-did-I-do-now’_ expression.

“Point is,” Lily said, pausing to clear her throat. “It’s probably not irreparable.”

With a heavy sigh, Remus returned his face to his hands. “I hope you’re right.”


	3. I'm Not Allowed to Want This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Sirius has a nightmare regarding his past, which involves sexual abuse. You can avoid that section and still read the rest of the chapter, if you choose. It starts early in the chapter with "The smell of old oak" and ends with "down into the dark."

**_ Sirius _ **

It wasn’t until he stood in front of the doors to the tube that he finally _stopped_. Since he walked out of James’ house, he’d been begging himself to stop, to go back, to explain to Remus that this wasn’t that big of a deal, that they could just ignore it, like a _normal_ person would do.

But, no. When it mattered, his body didn’t listen. Oh, it had _really_ listened when Remus’ lips were against it. That was loud and fucking clear. As soon as his brain got involved, as soon as it registered that his body had _enjoyed_ it, that was where the problem started.

The doors opened. He started to take a step inside when his mobile in his back pocket began to buzz. Taking a step back, he checked the message. It was from James.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Prongs: Padfoot, please come back and talk**

**to me. Pete and Remus are going home, if**

**that makes a difference.**

**_________________________________________________________**

Sirius let out an angry huff. That _did_ make a difference. He didn’t want Remus to have to leave. They were Remus’ friends. Sirius was the one crashing their parties, showing up without any fucking shoes to bum drugs from his dealer and ruining fucking _everything_.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Padfoot_ : Remus shouldn’t leave, he didn’t

do anything wrong.

**_________________________________________________________**

James’ reply was nearly instant, so Sirius stepped from the platform to find a bench.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Prongs: I’m sure you didn’t either. you don’t**

**have to tell me what happened, but please**

**come back. Moony said your heat might still be out.**

_Padfoot_ : god, I’m such an idiot, prongs.

**Prongs: Funny, that’s what Moony is saying**

**Prongs: ABOUT HIMSELF, not about you**

_Padfoot_ : I was supposed to be his friend today and I couldn’t even do that. wtf is wrong with me

**Prongs: NOTHING IS WRONG WITH YOU.**

**idk what it is, I don’t even need to know, but**

**you went through something, Pads**

**Prongs: just like Moony did.**

**Prongs: but I get the feeling yours is too new**

**Prongs: Moony’s had time to learn how to cope**

**but you haven’t. Moony knows that.**

_Padfoot_ : does he know I didn’t mean to run

out just now? s2g I just fucking … panicked.

**Prongs: I’m sure he knows, they left just now.**

**please come back, Pads.**

_Padfoot_ : fuck. I can’t. Today was just … a lot. 

**Prongs: I know. I’m glad you stuck with us even**

**though we’re all slightly mad. You’re one of us now.**

**_________________________________________________________**

_One of us_. Sirius had never heard those words in this context. Nobody had ever _claimed_ him before. Even knowing the truth, his family had still disowned him. When he’d been violently drowning, the people he thought were his friends chose to let him sink.

Suddenly, here was this group of people who had seemingly nothing in common – no shared history, few collective interests, hardly even knew anything about each other. Yet, somehow, together, in less than 24-hours, they had managed to form a family.

For some fucking reason, they wanted Sirius to be a part of it. 

**_________________________________________________________**

**Prongs: But you should text Moony.**

**When you’re ready. He’s rather**

**worried about you.**

**_________________________________________________________**

With a deep, tortured breath, Sirius stepped onto the train. He didn’t text Remus.

**_________________________________________________________**

The smell of old oak. A breeze of outgoing winter strolling in through the crack in the window. Shuffling of papers and scratching of lead and clicking of laptop keys. A collar and tie around his throat. His hair, much shorter, still tucked behind his ears.

_No, no, no, no. Stop. Wake up. Please, wake up._

“Mr. Black, were you going to answer the question, or stare out the window all day?” he heard a nauseatingly familiar voice, sharp and biting, from across the room. He didn’t have control over his body – he wanted not to turn, not to look _him_ in the face.

_Goddammit, **wake the fuck up**. _

“So sorry, Dr. Carlisle. Wouldn’t dream of missing a moment of hearing you speak.” Sirius’ voice came out smooth and sweet, bordering flirtatious. His tone had sounded like this in the beginning, back when Sirius was still mildly attracted to him, before Sirius knew what he really _was_. When Sirius drew his eyes upward, the knots in his stomach felt like fists.

Manicured black hair combed precisely to one side, eyes turquoise like the polished gem on the Black family ring, pupils wide underneath the clear, plastic frames poised on the end of his upturned nose. If Sirius had control over his stomach, he would’ve emptied it on command. The piercing stare Sirius received in return could only be described as predatory.

But it was a dream, after all, and Sirius’ mind always warped this man to _look_ like the monster he was. His sharp green eyes morphed into blood red, dark shadows slipping from his lips like the forked tongue of a venomous snake. All around him dissolved into black smoke.

“See me in my office after class,” Carlisle replied, and Sirius wondered if, back then, he had intentionally ignored the obvious, sickly-sweet drawl to Carlisle’s voice, or if he had reveled in it. As the scene warped before him, the cadence of Carlisle’s voice rolled along after, rising and falling off-key in a minor pitch, until it sounded like the background music of a horror movie.

_Don’t go. Please don’t go to his office. Just wake up, for **Christ’s** sake. _

This version of himself, trapped in the past, trapped in his nightmare, couldn’t hear his real voice. This version of Sirius never listened. Of course, neither had he, in the beginning.

“You wanted to see me?” he called softly as he knocked on the door of the man who haunted his dreams. The man who never stopped haunting his dreams. When Sirius peered in, Carlisle sat behind his enormous, ornate cherry wood desk. It was bigger in the dream that it had been in life, Carlisle was practically swallowed up by it. From his lofty chair, Sirius could see the top two buttons of Carlisle’s shirt unfastened, and his tie hanging loosely at his throat.

“Yes, Sirius. Close the door, if you please,” he replied lazily, letting his head fall against the high back of his red leather chair. Reluctantly, Sirius did as he was told. As the door closed, the desk shrank, and Carlisle pulled further at the tie around his neck, eyeing Sirius maliciously.

_Don’t shut that door, you fucking prick. Don’t trap yourself in here with him._

Carlisle stood from his desk, motioning for Sirius to sit in one of the chairs positioned in front of him. With a solemn nod, Sirius again did what was instructed of him, and Carlisle half-settled onto the corner of his desk, very close to where Sirius found himself seated.

“You really love causing trouble, don’t you,” Carlisle asked, craning his neck to slip the tie from around his throat. It wasn’t really formed as a question.

“Believe it or not, I try not to,” Sirius said with an awkward chuckle, and he could remember being _so sure_ that this wasn’t leading where it seemed. Idly pushing himself from the desk, Carlisle prowled Sirius’ chair, letting his fingertips drag across Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius bared his teeth, curled a fist, but couldn’t keep the obvious, sickening shudder from his spine.

_Run. Just run. Get up and run. Your uneasiness is justified. You can run. Fucking RUN._

Sirius didn’t run. He never ran. He sat in that overstuffed leather chair and let a man twice his age put hands on him. With a light squeeze at the base of his neck, Carlisle came back around, leaning down into Sirius’ face, holding his hands tightly down on each arm of the chair.

“No, I think you _revel_ in it,” he breathed out heavily and Sirius caught the distinct smell of scotch on his breath. He leaned back as far as he could. The dream took that liquor and poured it down Sirius’ throat – he could feel it burn all the way down, but he didn’t react to it.

“Was there something you needed to talk to me about?” Sirius swallowed the scotch down hard, swallowing his fears along with it. He tried to play dumb, tried to pretend not to recognize what was happening, because _maybe_ they could play this off. He didn’t want to have to outright _refuse_ Carlisle, the man was friends with his parents. No, Sirius had to be the model student. He _had_ to do everything he could to try to hear those elusive words from his mother. That she was proud of him. That she loved him. That he was just as good as Regulus.

“Don’t play coy, love,” Carlisle slurred, dragging his fingertip along Sirius’ jaw, to which Sirius ferociously retracted. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“There’s been a mista-” Sirius began to say, just as Carlisle grabbed onto the back of Sirius’ neck, ripping his long hair in between his fingers, and jerking his face forward, trapping Sirius in a kiss that he didn’t agree to. When Sirius tried to pull away, Carlisle followed, forcing Sirius further down into the chair. “ _Stop_ ,” Sirius muffled, tearing his face away.

Carlisle stared down at him for a moment, seeming surprised. Sirius was frozen. In the dream, he could pretend he was paralyzed, that he didn’t have a choice in this. He could pretend that he wasn’t able to fight him. He watched the blood red return to Carlisle’s eyes, and he could pretend that this _creature_ had tricked him into coming into this office in the first place.

“You’re such a cock tease,” Carlisle finally smiled, a gut-churning, bile-inducing smile, running his tongue along the front of his teeth before slamming his open lips against Sirius’ again. Before Sirius could push him off, Carlisle managed to get his liquor-soaked tongue deep into Sirius’ mouth. It felt like it slithered all the way down his throat, into his chest.

_Clock this sodding cunt in the face and RUN, SIRIUS. Before he ruins your fucking life._

With a little more determination and force, Sirius shoved Carlisle back, but his maneuver was only successful for a moment. Before Sirius could even stand, Carlisle was immediately upon him, burying him into the chair, a hand around Sirius’ throat. He leaned down deep into Sirius, and Sirius could feel him rubbing himself against the inside of Sirius’ thigh. His cheek held to Sirius’, Carlisle whispered into his ear, his oppressive breath burrowing into Sirius’ skin.

“Everyone knows you’re a slag, Sirius. Don’t act like you don’t want it.” Instantly, Sirius’ eyes filled with tears. He started to shake his head, his breathing becoming erratic.

“No, I don’t … that’s not … I didn’t …” The words wouldn’t come out – he couldn’t explain this reputation he’d acquired, couldn’t say that _he_ had been the one left heart-broken by all those boys before. But why did that matter? The only thing that _did_ matter was getting out of this room. Another shove sent Carlisle back again, but the bulky man never even lost his footing.

Could Sirius _fight_ him? With Carlisle’s full weight on him, Sirius could barely even move to begin with. What would happen if he _did_ fight? No doubt Carlisle would retaliate against him. It was Dr. Carlisle’s word against his – if they chose his side over Sirius’, he could be expelled.

_Then get expelled, for fuck’s sake. It’s not WORTH THIS. It’s not worth your SANITY._

“Don’t act like you’re going to fight me,” he groaned into Sirius’ ear, grinding his hips down, and Sirius boosted his attempts at escape. In a panic, he started throwing his fists toward Carlisle’s arrogant face and he struck a single blow before Carlisle took tight hold of his wrists.

“Help!” Sirius shouted, terror cracking his voice, writhing under Carlisle’s hold.

“Are you joking?” Carlisle scoffed, the tone of his voice shifting down into anger. With a swift heave of Sirius’ wrists, Sirius flew face-first into Carlisle’s chest. Immediately, Carlisle wrenched his hand into Sirius’ hair, forming a tight, tangled fist and pulling Sirius’ neck taut. 

“Stop, I don’t –” Sirius choked out. He swung his free hand blindly. Carlisle cut him off, shifting one of Sirius’ wrists underneath his knee, taking the only hand Sirius had free to fight with. The bones of his wrist crushed under Carlisle’s weight – Sirius wondered if it had broken.

“Do you realize what you’re doing?” he asked, ghosting his face up along Sirius’ throat as he spoke. “Perhaps not. Maybe you aren’t aware that your little brother’s application for admission is on my desk, right this moment.” Sirius stilled, jaw clenched tightly. Carlisle’s teeth closed coarsely over Sirius’ Adam’s apple, biting down until there was a wheeze in Sirius’ breath.

At that moment, Regulus manifested behind Carlisle, glaring down at Sirius from where Carlisle continue to molest him, his teeth sinking further into Sirius’ throat. In this version, Carlisle’s teeth grew long, piercing right into Sirius’ skin and holding him in place.

“You’ve always been jealous of me,” Regulus spat, snarling his lip up just the way their mother did. Immediately, there were tears in Sirius’ eyes. He tried to speak, tried to argue with him, but the fangs had spread into his windpipe. He heard the sound of air hissing out.

Regulus continued. “You’re a waste of breath, Sirius. Nobody in the world cares what happens to you right now.” His silver eyes narrowed as he leaned down into Sirius’ face. “Dr. Carlisle could strangle you to death, bury you in the rose garden, and nobody would even _look_ for you.” The tears rolled down into Sirius’ ears, filling his ears with fluid.

“That’s not true,” Sirius’ voice scraped out of his throat. Through the saline in his ears, his own voice sounded muddled. “You care,” he started, but bared his teeth. This wasn’t Regulus. He would never say these things. “ _Reg_ cares,” he corrected. “He does. I know he does.”

This false Regulus smiled, a horrible, wicked, ugly smile, and it made Sirius angry that this _thing_ in front of him twisted Regulus’ face into that expression. Under that terrible smile, the thing that looked like Regulus said, in an oozing voice. “Wouldn’t dear little Reggie be heart-broken if he found out his brother was the reason he didn’t get accepted?”

The apparition vanished, leaving the scent of Regulus behind in an ethereal cloud of mist that matched the colour of his eyes. There was a pop in Sirius’ ears, the water removed, and Carlisle pulled back, leaving Sirius to realize there were no holes in his throat. No air trickling out.

_It’s an empty threat. This is **worse** than Regulus being rejected. So much worse. _

Carlisle continued. “What a shame if something were to prevent him from being accepted.” Sirius closed his eyes, tears sliding down his temples. “Worse still if he, say, wasn’t able to get in _anywhere_. Only a few phone calls to make that happen.”

“Don’t do this,” Sirius cried, voice thick and hollow. Quickly, Carlisle stood, pulling an unwilling Sirius forward in his chair, perched on the edge. When Sirius’ eyes flew open in surprise, an unsteady breath falling from his lips, he wished he’d kept them closed. One of Carlisle’s hands was still buried in Sirius’ hair, the other went to his belt buckle.

“You want Reg to get in, don’t you?” he taunted, clicking his tongue arrogantly. Sirius didn’t move – he pursed his lips tightly, his whole frame shaking. The grip in his hair tightened and Sirius yelped in pain. Carlisle leaned down into his face. “Touch me or I’ll ruin your life.”

“Fucking do it then, see if I give a shit,” Sirius spat angrily, as he got one good kick into Carlisle’s shin, with only the flash of a thought of being expelled. Carlisle was undeterred, the sound of fumbling with the button of his trousers becoming more like the ticking of a bomb.

“Let me rephrase that,” Carlisle grunted, slamming his knee into the chair, right between Sirius’ legs, pinning him to the back of the chair. “Touch me or I’ll ruin _your brother’s_ life.”

On a short, sobbing breath, Sirius looked up, horrified, only to find the face of his mother, scowling down at him. The other person actively trying to ruin his life. The dream had done work on her, too. The corners of her mouth stretched down further than the rest of her face, clawing down past her jaw, jutting out their edges like blades sewn into her skin.

“You’re an absolute disgrace to the family,” she hissed, evoking the snake that was in her soul, and the dream stretched out each harsh syllable to make her voice sound like a demon in the dark. “Are you taking drugs, Sirius?” Her face contorted into disgust. “Look at you – you waste food at dinner, you wake Regulus up with your fits every night. You’re absolutely _disheveled_ and it’s disgusting. And don’t think Ethan hasn’t called about your abysmal grades.”

At the mention of his name, Sirius began to noticeably shake. “Mum, there’s something I need to tell you,” Sirius breathed out, lips trembling as the tears began streaming down his face, and the tears filled up their sitting room, a dark ocean in an ancient and decaying house.

“Don’t give me your useless excuses, you rotten son,” she snapped, not even trying to hide her forked tongue behind her fangs. Sirius looked up, shoulders sagging. “This has been going on for far too long. You’re becoming an embarrassment to your brother.” The room was flooding with black water, rushing in from some unseen geyser. His mother, unfazed.

“Mum, Dr. Carlisle is … he’s making me _do_ things. To get Reg accepted.” She shrugged.

“Good, you could use a little work ethic.” The breath from Sirius’ lips fell out staggered and broken, much like the rest of him. He’d been doing _things_ for Carlisle for so long.

“He’s _using_ me, Mum,” Sirius cried, gritting his teeth. “He’s blackmailed me for … for Regulus’ admission. Said if I didn’t … do what he wants, then he’ll ruin Reg’s life.” His mother stopped cold, silver eyes narrowed in Sirius’ direction from underneath her long, dark hair.

With sharply manicured fingernails, she gripped Sirius’ face jaggedly. The water was up to Sirius’ chest, rising still. He could feel the pressure growing in his ribs as his mother spoke. “Now, you listen to me.” Her voice was practically a shriek. “You do whatever he says.”

Sirius felt the blood drain from his face. “But, Mum, he’s –”

“You think I don’t see the way you look at him?” she hissed, sending shock coursing down his spine, coming out as a tremor in his fingertips. “I know what you _are_. And it is revolting. No doubt you seduced him in the first place.” Sirius’ eyes widened, tears spilling at the movement, but they barely even had time to roll down his cheeks before they were engulfed by the flood.

“He _cornered_ me,” Sirius ground his teeth angrily. “In his _office_. And forced me to –”

“I don’t care _what_ he’s making you do,” she interrupted harshly. By the way her eyes went wide, and her lips grew thin, Sirius could tell she _knew_. She knew the kinds of things that Carlisle was doing to him and she didn’t care. “You do it. Nothing is more important than Regulus’ future. _Nothing_.” The tears in Sirius’ eyes slipped over his lashes as he clenched his jaw.

“Yes, ma’am.” The murky water surged up, swallowing him whole, down into the dark.

Sirius woke sobbing, sweat beading across his chest, despite the still freezing temperature inside his flat from a heating unit that had been unable to be repaired. Sitting up in bed, shivering from the cold, he buried his face into his hands and let himself cry.

He’d left that night – abandoned his home, escaped that hell, deserted Regulus. No, Regulus would be fine – he was the only son his mother ever cared about, anyway. It didn’t matter that Sirius got accepted into a prestigious, private university, didn’t matter that he maintained perfect grades, didn’t matter that he was the model son. In his mother’s eyes, Regulus was one of the _old_ _gods_ and Sirius wasn’t even a minor deity.

He knew he should have taken the last Xanax Marlene gave him, but it was _shit_ compared to the Valium. Still, anything would’ve been better than seeing _his_ face. Come tomorrow, he was going to have to hunt down Marlene and beg her for them. He couldn’t keep doing this.

Before he knew what he was doing, his mobile was to his ear. It rang. It kept ringing. The thought of hanging up didn’t enter Sirius’ mind. The realization that it was four in the morning didn’t occur to him. He didn’t plan out what he might say in a voicemail. Finally, there was a connection on the other end and a tired, soft breath followed.

Sirius didn’t wait for an answer. “Moony?”

* * *

**_ Remus _ **

A sudden, muffled sound woke him. When his eyes adjusted to the dark, he wished they hadn’t. Standing at the end of his bed was a man, a _giant_ of a man, his eyes glinting in the dark. The way his lips curled up into a cruel smile made it seem like he was snarling – a wild animal in the dark, poised to pounce. Remus’ eyes widened, stilled in terror.

“Hullo, little one.” His voice was raspy, but the lilt of his words was lazy, every syllable drawing into the next with no definable border between them. Remus didn’t respond. Neither did the stranger. Instead, he stepped around the edge of Remus’ bed, leaning in.

His eyes were yellow. His teeth were yellow. His skin was yellow. The smell rolling down off his skin was like a wounded dog that had come in from a heavy storm. Remus tried to shrink away, to slink down underneath his covers, but the man just leaned further, snarling still.

“Too late to escape now, boy,” he growled, his hand shooting out from his side to clamp down over Remus’ mouth. Immediately, Remus thrashed against him, eyes wide with tears, but the stranger’s other hand gripped tightly around Remus’ throat. Remus could feel the fingernails pressing into his skin as the man leaned in, whispering into Remus’ ear.

“Don’t be afraid,” he paused with what sounded like a laugh. “I don’t bite.” 

_I don’t bite. I don’t bite. I don’t bite._

With a violent pull of breath, Remus sat up in bed. In his own bed, in his own flat that he shared with Pete. He wasn’t with Fenrir anymore. He wasn’t chained in a basement. He was safe. He went through the checklist again in his mind, repeating it until he knew it was true, patting down his bare chest with open palms to remind himself the open wounds had long been closed.

Home. Free. Safe. Warm. _Loved_.

The gritty drag of Fenrir’s voice was still in his ear, real enough to make the soft hair on the back of his neck bristle, loud enough to put a clench into his teeth. _I don’t bite_.

Except that he _had_. There wasn’t anything that Fenrir was capable of doing that he _hadn’t_ done to Remus, including tearing into Remus’ skin with his own teeth. There was a sharp indention with ragged edges around the curve of Remus’ shoulder to prove it.

Memories like this were hard to shake. He couldn’t close his eyes, or he would see Fenrir’s face, watching him from the dark, eyes glinting with anticipation. He couldn’t rub the old, aching wound on his shoulder, or he’d feel the callouses on Fenrir’s palms as he rolled his hands down Remus’ skin. He couldn’t pull the blankets up to his chin, or he’d remember the warm, wet breath of Fenrir’s open, waiting mouth, poised against his back.

Of course, these thoughts were inevitable. They were with him all the time, anyway. It was only worse because there was no longer an imaginary Fenrir lurking in every shadow. No, now there was a _real_ Fenrir in all of those shadows – a real chance that he could come back, that he could take Remus away, just the same as when he was a child. Or worse.

The unexpected, shrill ringing of the standard ringtone of his new mobile sent an audible, anxious noise up from Remus’ throat, accompanied by a noticeable stiffening of his spine. It was bad enough that everyone who had _ever_ known him had been texting their sympathies, after they heard the news about Fenrir. If not for his worried mother, whom he had spent _hours_ on the phone with, convincing that he was alright, he would’ve shut the damn thing off.

For longer than he realized, he sat still in the dark, intensely trying to convince himself that it wasn’t Fenrir on the phone, that Fenrir didn’t know where to find him, how to contact him. That Fenrir had gotten what he wanted from Remus. He didn’t _need_ to put new marks into Remus’ skin, because his skin was already at capacity. 

Finally, Remus fumbled around on the table at his bedside, purposefully not looking at the number on the screen as he answered. No matter who it _actually_ was, he would still see Fenrir’s name. Once the phone was to his ear, he wondered if he would hear Fenrir’s voice.

It was the voice furthest from Fenrir’s voice. This voice was quiet and soft, comforting and deep, despite the pain and terror tracing through it. This voice said Remus’ name, in a way that no other voice could – like the first sip of tea, warm and sweet and consuming.

“Moony?” he said before Remus could answer, and there was immediately slack in Remus’ shoulders. The sudden lack of tension sent Remus falling back onto his pillow.

“Sirius,” he breathed out, closing his eyes.

“Did I wake you?” Sirius asked, a twinge of something hidden in his voice. Something that Remus didn’t have to ask about – it was why Sirius was calling in the middle of the night.

“No, I …” Remus paused. Normally, he had to tell little white lies about why he wasn’t sleeping – usually to his parents. He tried not to unnecessarily worry them. But he didn’t have to lie to Sirius. “I just … it was just a dream.” Instantly, Sirius sucked in a tight breath, sounding jagged over the slight static of the connection.

“ _Bad_ dream?” he clarified softly. Remus swallowed.

“Yeah. Same old shit,” he mumbled into the phone, his voice feeling like gravel in his throat. He only let himself be momentarily distracted by the indeterminable noise that came through Sirius’ end before continuing. “I’m guessing you had one, too?”

Sirius paused before letting out a very defeated, very troubled, “Yeah.”

“Do you want to –” Remus stopped. Asking Sirius over to his flat after what happened between them that afternoon was probably not the best decision. Though, Sirius had called him when he needed Remus most, so that had to be a good sign. “Talk about it?”

“What is there to say? Same old shit, right?” Sirius tried to laugh, but it came out strained and empty. As Remus adjusted down in the sheets, he let out an inadvertent groan.

“Do you want a distraction?” he asked, voice mumbled from where his face was further pressing down into the folds of his pillow. Sirius let out and took in another breath so rapidly that Remus wasn’t sure there was any real exchange of air in his lungs.

“I want to apologize,” Sirius said, nearly a whisper. An automatic flush went into Remus’ cheeks – he didn’t expect Sirius to bring this up. If anything, he expected to ignore it forever. In his surprise, he fumbled through his disagreement, speaking erratically and nervously.

“I should be the one to apologize, Pads. It was my fault, I never should have asked you –”

“You didn’t ask,” Sirius interrupted. “I volunteered.” The blood in Remus’ cheeks swelled.

“You wouldn’t have if you’d known that I would –” Again, interrupted.

“Remus, wait.”

“I’m sure it felt intentional, but I really don’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you,” Remus took in an unsteady breath through his torrent of words, pulling his free hand across his face, mumbling the words through his fingers in an attempt to keep them inside his teeth, but it wasn’t working. “God, maybe I _was_.” His hand went over his eyes.

“No, don’t –” Sirius began, but it was Remus’ turn to interrupt.

“I knew you didn’t want to be touched,” he groaned into the line, trying to forget the look on Sirius’ face as he’d run from the room. “I _knew_ and I did it anyway just to –”

“Moony, I _liked_ it,” Sirius blurted out from the other end of the line, voice wavering as a soft, short sigh flittered through the static. Remus went still, the speed of his heart going on ahead of him, with the breath in his lungs not far behind it. “I liked being … held.”

“You …” Remus started, but couldn’t finish the thought, the rest of it just falling out as wordless breath from his lips. The other end was just as silent. Finally, a response.

“ _That’s_ what scared me,” Sirius breathed out hard, a choked sound rounding out the end of it, like he was struggling to keep speaking. “What’s worse is that I was supposed to be there to _help_ you. If anyone was taking advantage, it was _me_ , Moony.”

Remus scoffed loudly. “Don’t be ridi –”

“Moony, I’m going to tell you the honest to God truth and it’s going to sound weird as fuck, but it’s a big fucking problem right now and you’re the only one I can talk to ab–”

“Just tell me already,” Remus laughed softly, as Sirius took a sharp breath. He was quiet for a very long time, taking in breaths like he was about to speak, only to let it back out.

Finally, he spilled out, “What happened just before I left,” he began, voice growing soft and thin. “I … I liked that _a lot_.” The blush that had been in Remus’ cheeks since the start of the call burned under his skin. His lips parted as he sharply realized that Sirius was admitting to liking them against his skin, and he intended to speak, but there was hardly breath to do it.

“… _oh_.” Remus let out a sound, inadvertent and vaguely dressed as a word.

Sirius didn’t stop talking. “I didn’t want to like it, but I …”

“Oh,” Remus repeated, chest growing tight, spreading up into his throat.

“No, Moony, I …” Sirius stumbled, realizing that this conversation was taking turns that neither of them wanted to go in, but he stopped. “Wait. You sound disappointed.”

Remus stiffened in place, halting breath and trying very hard to quiet the pounding of his heart that was only growing louder the longer he went without breathing. There was only silence as Remus tried to convince himself to argue the point. He couldn’t.

“You know it wasn’t on purpose, don’t you?” Remus finally asked.

“I know.”

“But if you _liked_ it,” he paused to swallow the tightness in his throat, “That would’ve … I wouldn’t have been _unhappy_ about that.” He let out a careful breath, trying to listen for some sign from Sirius’ side, but there was nothing audible. “I’m not disappointed that you didn’t want it, I’m … I’m upset because I made you uncomfortable.”

“That’s not what I … you didn’t …” Sirius stumbled, so Remus spoke for him.

“I should never have put you in the position where this could’ve happened in the first place.” When Sirius had come into that room and pulled Remus into his arms, Remus knew he should have pulled away. It would’ve avoided all of this. He suddenly forgot Sirius’ admission of how he had actually enjoyed Remus’ lips against his skin. He could only focus on the way Sirius said he didn’t want to like it. He didn’t want it, and Remus felt like he had pushed it anyway.

“Stop it. You didn’t put me in _any_ position. I wanted to help you.”

“But you didn’t want me to _kiss_ you.” Saying it out loud like that felt so awkward.

“Goddammit, Moony, I wanted you to keep _going_ ,” Sirius finally snapped, his voice curled up into a low growl at the back of his throat, and Remus’ teeth immediately clenched shut.

“You wanted me to …” Remus trailed off. The heaviness in his chest felt like it came up into his mouth, filling it with words and fluid that mixed contrarily behind his teeth.

“Do you know how _fucked up_ that makes me?” A heavy breath slipped through the line, an anxious whine in Sirius’ voice. “After the news you just received and I was supposed to be your friend and I just wanted … God, I have no idea what I wanted.”

“You wanted me to keep going,” Remus repeated, staring wide into the dark under raised brows, leaning into the phone in some effort to get closer to Sirius’ voice.

“You didn’t even really kiss me, Moony, your face just fell into my skin. I don’t even know if you’re … if you … and you were dealing with some rough shit and all I could think about was …”

Remus interrupted abruptly, answering Sirius’ unasked question. “If you had asked me, I would’ve kept going.” He spoke quickly, to get it all out before he lost the will to say it. The only sound from Sirius’ end was a short, soft breath, almost surprised.

“Even after …” Sirius didn’t finish, but Remus knew what he meant. Even after the news about Fenrir. Even after letting Sirius watch him cry.

“ _Especially_ after,” Remus admitted. His need for physical comfort, especially from Sirius, certainly could’ve morphed into something desperate, even just in an effort to take his mind off of Fenrir. “But I never would’ve have pushed it on you.” Sirius let out a frustrated groan, to which Remus bared his teeth, letting his head fall backward. It was one thing to just be attracted to Sirius – it was something else _entirely_ to know Sirius was attracted _back_.

“It wasn’t _you_ I was worried about, Moony,” he replied, anger rising in his tone. “It was me. You needed a friend and I was acting like a fucking predator, for Christ’s sake.” With only a moment’s pause at the wording Sirius had chosen, Remus argued rather quickly.

“Admitting you wanted more is a far cry from predatory behavior, Pads.”

“No, no, no. No, I _know_ the way they behave,” Sirius stammered, voice getting louder and more troubled. “And I was acting just like him. Just using you to get what I wanted.” As his eyes fell closed, Remus went still for a moment, his head falling forward. _Him_. _Predator_. So, this was it.

“You’re allowed to want things, Sirius,” Remus reasoned, as calmly as possible.

“Not this. I’m not allowed to want _this_.” His voice vibrated, the stress rolling up from his lungs and out through his vocal cords. “Not from you.” A furrow went into Remus’ brow.

“Why not me?” He tried so hard not to let his voice delve into wounded.

“Because I can’t afford to lose you,” Sirius replied, his voice small and trembling. That part of Remus that relied on physical comfort stormed into his chest and it thrummed angrily at not being able to have this conversation with Sirius in his arms.

“Why would you ever think you could lose me?” The breath that Sirius let out was hollow and broken, the threat of a sob buried somewhere within it.

“I’m … I’m fucked up, Moony. You’ll get close and you’ll find out _how_ bad.” A careful, sardonic laugh bubbled up unsolicited from Remus’ throat.

“You think I came out of those eight months with Fenrir _un_ -fucked up?” Remus let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You saw how bad it was this afternoon.”

“Because of the horrible shit that he did to you.”

“Isn’t yours for the same reason?” Remus insisted. A jagged puff of air stumbled through the connection and Remus could hear the stilted breaths of an abrupt sob on the other end.

Remus kept talking. “Wanting something is not the same as taking it. You’re not turning into this arsehole. And you’re not turning me away, either.” He paused, listening to the sounds of Sirius’ sniffles through the static. “If you want me, you can have me.”

A soft gasping of air trickled through the receiver and was let out slowly. “It might take me longer than you’re willing to wait, Moony.” With a smile, Remus burrowed into his pillow.

“I think you’ll find I’m rather patient.”

* * *

**_ Sirius _ **

“Sirius,” Remus breathed into the receiver, sending a shudder through Sirius’ spine, one that he couldn’t determine if pleasant or unpleasant.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, though knowing he had. It was four in the morning. It wasn’t even _just_ the nightmare of a memory that prompted this call. Half of it was just wanting to find out if Remus would answer, after what happened that afternoon.

“No, I …” Remus stopped short, started again. “I just … it was just a dream.” No, not just a dream. A nightmare. Just like Sirius had just had. With a twist of his shoulder, and the movement of air that followed, Sirius worked his way deeper into the sheets. The only warmth in his flat was that which radiated from him, trapped under the blankets with him.

“Bad dream?” Sirius asked, just to keep the conversation going. Of _course_ it had been a bad dream. If Remus was anything like Sirius, all he had were bad dreams.

“Yeah. Same old shit.” Despite the dream Sirius had just woken from, despite how he had run off earlier that day, the effect of Remus’ voice, especially in this tone, deep with residual sleep, was the same. And Sirius remained angry at himself for that being his first thought. “I’m guessing you had one, too?” Remus asked. Sirius held his breath, wishing he could close his eyes, but knowing he would see Ethan Carlisle’s arrogant, perverted expression if he did.

“Yeah,” he said on an exhale.

“Do you want to co–” Remus stopped mid-word, retracing. “Talk about it?”

“What is there to say?” Sirius scoffed, trying to turn it into a laugh, but failing really miserably. “Same old shit, right?” There was some fumbling on Remus’ end before a delicate, breathy groan came through the line. Sirius’ fingernails instinctively dug into his palm. This was becoming a huge fucking problem. Even after the horror he’d _just_ seen in his dreams, even after months spent isolating himself from the inevitability of human touch, he still wanted to pull Remus to his chest and bury his lips in Remus’ hair.

“Do you want a distraction?” Remus asked, even his muffled voice still sounding so inviting. _Goddammit_. Sirius tried convincing himself to slow down, to take a breath, to remember where this _want_ was inevitably going to lead. There was a reason he’d had that dream – a reminder of how want could corrupt. The reason he’d run from Remus that afternoon was because he was trying to avoid becoming just like the monster who had created him.

This was proof – he couldn’t even listen to Remus _breathe_ , for fuck’s sake, without considering every unholy thought that raced through his mind. The bigger problem with those thoughts was that he couldn’t have a single one without remembering Ethan Carlisle.

“I want to apologize,” Sirius forced himself to say, rather than taking Remus up on that offer for a distraction. He didn’t like what that conjured first in his thoughts.

“I should be the one to apologize, Pads,” Remus said quickly, tumbling through his words like he couldn’t get them over each other fast enough. “It was my fault, I never should have asked you –” Sirius had to speak up, he couldn’t let Remus blame himself for this.

“You didn’t ask. I volunteered.” _Readily volunteered. Probably would’ve done some really fucked up things to be in that room, if the choice hadn’t been offered._

“You wouldn’t have,” Remus countered, “if you’d known that I would –”

Sirius stopped him again, not ready to hear Remus say it out loud. “Remus, wait.”

“I’m sure it felt intentional, but I really don’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you.” Immediately, Sirius was silent and stunned. Remus thought he was taking advantage of _him_? No, Sirius couldn’t let him keep thinking that. Not after the way he made Sirius feel. Not after the things Sirius had thought about with Remus in his arms. “God, maybe I was,” Remus continued, voice muffled, as if through his fingers.

“No, don’t –” He tried to interject again, but Remus had gone manic in explanation.

“I knew you didn’t want to be touched, I _knew_ ,” Remus said through a groan that Sirius tried very hard to ignore. “And I did it anyway, just to …” Sirius seized the unspoken moment.

“Moony, I _liked_ it,” he admitted in a rush, a panicked breath following. The truth was the only way he knew to get Remus to stop this. “I liked being held.” _By you_ , he added, unsaid.

“You …” Another thought unfinished. Sirius grit his teeth silently.

“ _That’s_ what scared me,” he managed to say, swallowing hard to keep the acidic taste from his mouth. “What’s worse is that I was supposed to be there to help you. If anyone was taking advantage, it was _me_ , Moony.” It was only for a moment, but the quiet on Remus’ end sent absolute terror into Sirius’ throat. Did he just majorly fuck this up?

The scoff that Remus sent back eased the tension in Sirius’ chest. “Don’t be ridi –” he began to say, but now that he knew Remus wouldn’t hang up, there was something else he needed to say. Something that was going to show Remus _exactly_ why Sirius was the one at fault.

“Moony, I’m going to tell you the honest to God truth and it’s going to sound weird as fuck, but it’s a big fucking problem right now and you’re the only one I can talk to ab–”

Remus laughed and Sirius relaxed, a little. “Just tell me already.”

“What happened … just before I left,” Sirius began, his breathing growing shallow. If he said this, there was no taking it back. “I, uh … I liked that _a lot_.” At first, there was absolutely no sound from Remus and Sirius began to panic internally. Oh, God. This was a mistake.

“ _Oh_ ,” Remus finally breathed out and Sirius couldn’t interpret it, so he kept talking.

“I didn’t want to like it,” he tried to explain it away. “But I …”

“Oh,” Remus said again, this one very much unlike than the last.

“No, Moony, I …” Sirius began to overexplain, but stopped, realizing why that response was so different than the last one. “Wait,” he said, a hesitant smile spreading just slightly over his lips as the tension in his shoulders slacked. “You sound disappointed.”

First, Remus was quiet. Then he said, “You know it wasn’t on purpose, don’t you?”

“I know,” Sirius replied carefully. 

“But if you _liked_ it,” Remus continued, his voice growing softer, but deep enough to send the vibrations of his voice into Sirius’ ear. “That would’ve …” he paused to think, only to start again, differently. “I wouldn’t have been … unhappy about that.” Oh, _God_. How was this so much better and so much worse than Sirius was prepared for, all at once? When Sirius proved to be at a loss for a reply, Remus continued. “I’m not disappointed that you didn’t want it. I’m upset because I made you uncomfortable.” Sirius replied instantly, before he was ready to speak, and it came out broken and indecisive, despite the well-formed thoughts he intended.

“That’s not what I … you didn’t …”

“I should never have put you in the position where this could’ve happened in the first place,” Remus sighed. How had this conversation taken this turn? Hadn’t Remus heard Sirius admit that he _liked_ having Remus’ lips against his throat?

“Stop it,” Sirius croaked, becoming distressed at the extent of Remus’ self-sacrifice. What did Sirius have to do to prove that _he_ was the one at fault? “You didn’t put me in any position. I wanted to help you.” Through the receiver, Sirius heard a tight, sharp sound, almost like a laugh.

“But you didn’t want me to _kiss_ you.” Oh, if only he knew.

“Goddammit, Moony, I wanted you to _keep going_ ,” Sirius barked, uncontrolled, with a harsh rumble in his throat, only realizing what he’d just admitted after it was too late. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Remus took a breath before replying, “You wanted me to …” Sirius had to stop this.

“Do you know how fucked up that makes me?” He heard the desperate whine in his voice, and he wondered if he was desperate to keep Remus or to push him away. “After the news you just received and I was supposed to be your friend and I just wanted …” he stopped to take a breath, not even sure how to finish that thought. “God, I have _no_ idea what I wanted.”

“You wanted me to keep going,” Remus repeated, and there was something in his voice that Sirius couldn’t exactly name, but it sounded like Remus was _pleased_ about it. Which led to a complicated set of reactions in Sirius’ chest. Alright, _yes_ , he was rather pleased himself at the idea that Remus liked that thought. But he couldn’t trust himself to judge it.

“You didn’t even really kiss me, Moony,” he argued, begrudgingly. “Your face just fell into my skin. I don’t even know if you’re …” _I don’t even know if you’re gay,_ “if you …” _if you want me the same way I want you_ , “And you were dealing with some rough shit and all I could think about was …” _All I could think about was the warmth of your lips on my skin._

Before Sirius could finish, Remus spoke, quickly and anxiously. “If you had asked me, I would’ve kept going.” Frozen in surprise, a breath fell from Sirius’ open mouth.

“Even after …” he started but didn’t need to say out loud. Even after all the shit that happened with Greyback. Even with Remus panicked about the potential for Greyback’s return.

“Especially after,” Remus replied low, and Sirius suddenly considered the fact that they really should be having this conversation face to face. “But I never would’ve pushed it on you.”

An unintentional groan slipped from Sirius’ lips as he let his head fall backward. It was one thing for Sirius to have this irritating, little crush on Remus, but for Remus to admit that he would indulge Sirius in that crush? That was a problem, of course. The bigger problem was the way that Remus felt the need to assure Sirius that he never would’ve insisted on it. As if Sirius had reason to worry about what Remus would try to do to him. That was _maddening_.

Because Remus was a fucking saint, as far as Sirius was concerned.

“It wasn’t you I was worried about, Moony,” Sirius responded, grit in his teeth, a snarl in his lips. “It was _me_. You needed a friend and I was acting like a fucking predator, for Christ’s sake.” There was a sound on Remus’ end that came across like an angry breath.

“Admitting you wanted more is a far cry from predatory behavior, Pads,” Remus said, and Sirius could hear the added sincerity in his voice. But he was wrong.

“No, no, no, I know the way they behave.” The words spewed from his mouth as he recalled that split second with Remus’ mouth against his neck, wondering what he could do to keep it there, and knowing that Ethan Carlisle probably thought the same thing – what he could do to force Sirius’ mouth to act for him. The idea that Sirius could even formulate a _shadow_ of the same vile, abusive thoughts that Carlisle did – that’s what truly terrified him. “And I was acting _just_ like him.” His fingernails dug into his palms. “Just using you to get what I wanted.”

Remus didn’t pause for even a moment. “You’re allowed to want things, Sirius.”

“Not _this_ ,” Sirius shot back, every syllable he spoke feeling like it clawed its way up from his throat and burrowed through his teeth. “I’m not allowed to want this. Not from you.”

“Why _not_ me?” Sirius tried to ignore what sounded like hurt in Remus’ voice.

“Because I can’t afford to lose you,” he replied, a waver in his voice that he couldn’t steady. This time, Remus didn’t respond right away. That aching part in his chest that wished they could have this conversation in person grew louder. He needed to see Remus’ face.

Yet, as always, Remus knew exactly what to say to make Sirius fall apart. “Why would you _ever_ think that you could lose me?” The breath that Sirius had been holding, waiting to develop into an argument, instead went falling from his lips in an exhale that bordered on a whimper.

“I’m fucked up, Moony,” Sirius groaned, burying his face into one hand, feeling the wetness at the border of his eyes. “You’ll get close and you’ll find out how bad.” Surprisingly, a laugh – sarcastic and bitter, but a laugh all the same – came through from Remus’ end.

“You think I came out of those eight months with Fenrir un-fucked up?” The tail end of his laugh turned into an honest sigh. “You saw how bad it was this afternoon.”

Suddenly, Sirius was angry – this wasn’t the same situation at all. In those eight months, Remus had been ripped to pieces, Greyback’s signature scrawled in blood all over a five-year-old’s body. Nothing even _resembling_ that kind of horror had happened to Sirius. No, Sirius was practically complicit in what he did with Carlisle. He let it happen. He _chose_ it. Whatever filthy, perverted things Carlisle had done, Sirius had done them _with_ him. That was nothing like what Greyback had done to Remus. Remus hadn’t been given the choice.

“Because of the horrible shit that he did to you!” Sirius growled, teeth clenched. Remus was unfazed by his tone, speaking over the end of Sirius’ words before they could be said.

“Isn’t _yours_ for the same reason?” Immediately, Sirius crumbled, collapsing in on himself as the tears spilled over onto his cheeks, splashing on the sheets below. All those things Sirius thought he _was_ because of Carlisle – twisted, stained, corrupted – Remus didn’t agree.

God, it was so fucking validating. And freeing.

In all the time that he spent under Carlisle’s thumb – and under his desk – not a single person in Sirius’ life believed that he was being abused by that man. He couldn’t be. Ethan Carlisle was the Dean of Admissions, he was a doctor, he was a professor. It had to be Sirius’ fault. Sirius had to be the manipulator. Sirius had to be enjoying it. Even his mother said so.

Not Remus. A boy who had only known Sirius for two days could see the thing that everyone else failed to see – or explicitly ignored – for almost a _year_. It was as if the deity that controlled the universe was trying to make up for Carlisle by gifting him with Remus.

As Sirius cried, Remus continued. “Wanting something is not the same as _taking_ it. You’re not turning into this arsehole. And you’re not turning me away, either.” As much as Sirius wanted to reply, he couldn’t. He just wanted to keep listening to Remus’ voice. “If you want me,” Remus said, his voice growing ever softer, increasingly more careful, “you can have me.”

The question of what one perfect thing Sirius had done in his life to deserve Remus sprawled across his mind, but there was nothing. He had done nothing good, nothing of any positive consequence and _still_ , Remus wanted him. And Sirius could never deserve him.

“It might take me longer than you’re willing to wait, Moony,” Sirius finally responded, with a deep, whole breath that felt like breathing for the first time. He could practically feel the smile on Remus’ face through the miles. A quiet, satisfied sigh followed.

“I think you’ll find I’m rather patient.”

Sirius decided their next conversation needed to be in person. 

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

“Remus?” He felt a groan press out from his lungs before making the mistake of opening his eyes to the painfully bright sunlight coming into the room. It bounced off Pete’s brilliantly blonde-white hair, making it all the more intense. “Sorry, are you on the phone?”

“Shit,” Remus croaked out before clearing his throat, fumbling around with his mobile until it was the right way round. “Sirius?” he said into the correct end. There was some shuffling on the other end, a bit of static, and then a weighted, mumbled breath.

“Shit,” Sirius repeated, adding an extra, “ _fuck_ ,” for good measure. With Pete’s eyes on him, underneath raised brows, Remus stifled the expression that he felt creeping up to the surface of his skin, listening to the way Sirius’ breathed into the phone. “Moony, I fell asleep.”

“So did I,” Remus laughed, braving a glance at Peter, who pulled his lips into his teeth, backing slowly out of the room with a curious nod in Remus’ direction.

“Group is in an hour, if you still want to go,” Peter whispered through a smile as he retreated from Remus’ room, closing the door behind him.

“Pads, I have to go. Support group thing.” He waited to find out if Sirius would express any interest in tagging along before offering an invitation. “You’re still welcome to come.”

His voice still buried in sleep, Sirius replied, “I really need to see you,” and Remus brought his hand up to cover his mouth, to hide the blushing of his cheeks from the empty room. “I still don’t … you’re the only one I … can I just _sit in_?”

“Of course.” Remus dragged himself unenthusiastically from bed, trying to run one of his hands through his unruly hair in an effort to coach it down. “No requirement to share.”

“Yeah, alright,” Sirius agreed, sounding a bit reluctant, still. “You know, I didn’t thank you for last night. Or yesterday.” As he opened his closet, Remus’ eyebrows furrowed.

“Yesterday?”

“You’re not going to make me say it again, are you?” Sirius said, a slight laugh in the depths of his voice and Remus practically let out a sigh of relief to hear happiness there.

“Say _what_ again?” Remus feigned innocence, fingering absently through the shirts in his closet, not looking at any of them. “Turn it into a production for me.” Sirius didn’t even hesitate.

“Oh, Moon of my life,” he crooned, lowering his voice even further. The movement of Remus’ hand stopped, gripping tightly onto the nearest shirt sleeve. “Never before have I known the warmth and tenderness I found in your embrace. How I have longed to be held as you have held me.” It took Remus a considerable moment to collect himself.

“ _Jesus_ , Sirius,” Remus breathed out, staring blankly into the dark closet. What a difference last night’s conversation had made in Sirius. All Remus had done was remind Sirius that he was allowed to be attracted to another person, to want to hold another person, to want to feel wanted and loved and safe. It hurt to imagine that Sirius had never been told that before.

“You literally asked for it, Moony, I don’t know what to tell you.” Sirius’ voice turned back up, that laugh returning doubly. God, it was so good to hear. It was like hearing Sirius’ _real_ voice for the first time, and Remus had never heard anything as beautiful.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he reminded Sirius. “You hugged _me_ , you know.”

“At the time, I didn’t really know I was going in for the All-Inclusive Package,” Sirius replied. Remus was awestricken at the steadiness in his voice, the warm wit in his tone, the comfort of his speech. “That hug, now _that_ was a production.”

“You literally asked for it,” Remus quipped. “From what I heard, said you’d do _anything_.”

“I bet it was James, that son of a bitch,” Sirius faked an angry growl in his tone, maintaining it for only a moment before it decayed into soft laughter.

“Moon of my life,” Remus said wistfully, finally settling on a dark blue button-up and pulling it from the closet. “I kind of like that.”

“I stole it from Game of Thrones.”

“I know.”

“When can I see you?” Sirius asked. Finally, Remus could hear the tension return to his voice. Of course, he knew that tension couldn’t be erased with a single affirming conversation, that it most likely would follow Sirius his whole life, just like Remus’ had. Still, it was good to know that they were moving in the right direction. All he had to do now was not screw it up.

Right, that wasn’t a fucking terrifying thought or anything.

_Just don’t do anything that could fuck up this fragile human being any further. Easy._

“I can meet you at yours, if you want.” Remus took a chance, remembering how defensive Sirius had seemed about Remus coming to get him the day before.

“I don’t … it’s not …” The anxious stutter returned, so Remus retracted.

“Would you rather meet me here?” Remus offered, softening the tone of his voice to remind Sirius that Remus would never do anything Sirius didn’t want him to do.

“Please,” Sirius breathed out. Remus gave him the address and they discovered they lived relatively close to one another. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting impatiently,” Remus replied with a laugh. Sirius let out a soft sigh.

“I’ll hurry, love,” he hummed into the phone before the call disconnected. If Remus’ smile grew any wider, he’d never get his face right again. He threw on the shirt and a pair of dark jeans before swinging open the door to his room, only to find Peter leaning against the opposite wall, wearing the worst shit-eating grin Remus had ever seen in his life.

“So,” Peter said, knowing smile on his lips as they parted to take a sip from the mug of tea he was holding. “That was Sirius, then.”

“Yep,” Remus replied shortly, unable to pull back the smile etched across his face, turning right back around to retreat into his room. Peter was right on his tail.

“And you were on the phone … all night?” Pete asked sweetly.

“Yep.” Remus busied himself with finding the pack of cigarettes that he couldn’t feel in his back pocket. More than usual, he was in desperate need of a smoke.

“Everything alright?”

“Swimming,” Remus hummed, eyeing the cigarettes on his windowsill, as he recalled having had one out the window, just before bed the night before.

“Is he going to group with us today?”

“He is.”

“Are we picking him up at his place?” Remus slipped a cigarette between his teeth, opening the window and settling into the frame. With one leg pulled to his chest, he let the other slide through the window, dangling carelessly from where he sat.

“Nope.”

“Then he’s meeting us here?”

“Yes, Pete.” He lit the cigarette, covering the ash against the cool, autumn wind.

“And –”

“And I kissed him yesterday, in case that was your next question,” Remus mumbled through the cigarette in his lips, casting a rather smug glance in Pete’s direction. Peter’s mouth fell wide and wordless, eyes just as wide but not quite wordless. Remus blew a smoke ring.

“How _the fuck_ would that have been my next question?” Peter shouted, his mouth finally catching up with the look in his eyes, a shout dissolving into laughter, but dissolving again into concern, as his eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Wait, was that the …” Pete made some vague motion with his hand, translating to _‘the-thing-that-happened-yesterday’_ and Remus nodded.

“It was really more of an accident, honestly,” he trailed off, worry flashing through his eyes for only a moment, before they brightened again, accompanied by a smile that crept up over his cheeks. “But, turns out, he didn’t exactly … hate it.”

The smile on Pete’s face was nearly as wide as Remus’. “Moony!” he shouted, a sort of victory whoop. His feet even left the floor for a moment. “That’s absolutely brilliant.”

“Don’t get my hopes too high, Pete.” Remus looked over with a rather pathetic expression, leaning his head on the window frame, smoking trailing from his lips.

Peter sighed. “You really like him, don’t you?” With a breath that mirrored Pete’s sigh, Remus let his forehead fall into his waiting palm, careful not to catch his fingers on cigarette ash.

“Yeah, I really do,” he groaned loudly, just as his mobile began to vibrate on his bedside table. As Peter retrieved it for him, he continued to pepper Remus with questions.

“How do you kiss someone accidentally?”

Remus unlocked his mobile. “It wasn’t even a kiss,” he sighed, a cloud of smoke pressed out of his lungs at once. “My mouth sort of just … brushed against him.” He glanced down at the text message on the screen.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Prongs: MOONY YOU KISSED HIM???**

**WTF TELL ME EVERYTHING**

**_________________________________________________________**

With a grin that grew ever more satisfied, Remus looked back at Peter, whose quizzical expression had not diminished in the least.

“Again, _how_ does even that happen?” Peter laughed, watching Remus knowingly.

“I was _crying_ on him, for God’s sake, it was far from romantic,” Remus said before taking another long drag on the cigarette. “My face was pressed against his neck an–”

“Wait, you kissed him on the _neck_?” Peter shouted.

“It wasn’t even a kiss!” Remus laughed, feeling rather manic. Peter rose a brow.

“You _called_ it a kiss.”

“Sirius said it wasn’t a kiss,” Remus shrugged, puffing another smoke ring out of the window as he went to respond to James’ message.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Moony_ : IT WASN’T A KISS. IT

DOESN’T COUNT.

**_________________________________________________________**

“Oh,” Peter deflated, seeming a bit disappointed. “But he … didn’t hate it?” The same blush flourished throughout Remus’ cheeks again as he recalled what Sirius had admitted.

“He said he … he said he _liked_ it,” Remus replied softly, drawing in an uneven breath, practically feeling the disjointed clouds of smoke pooling in his lungs.

“Fuck, Moony!” Peter went back to yelling. Remus turned quickly.

“I didn’t tell you any of this,” he warned, pointing sharply at Peter, who nodded solemnly before drawing pinched fingers across his mouth while sucking his lips into his teeth.

“Not a word,” he agreed. Remus’ mobile buzzed again. He looked down.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Prongs: ooh you bastard, you told him I**

**said the anything bit**

_Moony_ : you did say that

**Prongs: Lily says I wasn’t supposed**

**to tell you that**

_Moony_ : well you did

**Prongs: kiss or not, he sounds really fucking**

**happy today. Well done mate.**

**_________________________________________________________**

“Oi,” Pete drew Remus’ attention up from his mobile, pointing out the window toward Sirius, walking toward the stairs at their building, also looking down at his mobile. A cigarette bounced in his teeth with every step, a smile keeping it in his lips. Remus felt himself smile, too.

At that moment, Sirius looked up, catching sight of Remus sitting with one leg hanging out of his window, cigarette smoke trailing up from the glass. He stopped, the expression on his face, already soft, suddenly filled with relief, smoke trickling from his lips with an exhale.

“Hi,” he mouthed to Remus through the cigarette in his lips, holding up his hand, a motionless wave of sorts. His dark hair was tied haphazardly at the top of his head, the day-old stubble on his face casting a deeper shadow into the caverns of his cheekbones. Everything he had on was black – leather jacket, jeans, boots, _all_ black, offset only by his pale complexion.

“Hi,” Remus whispered back, leaning his head against the window frame for a moment, just letting himself admire the sight of Sirius, smiling. Sirius, content. Sirius, admiring _him_.

“Come down,” Sirius called softly, nodding his head back. More desperately than he intended, Remus scrambled back through the window, pulling Pete along behind him. Once they made it to the front door, Peter let Remus go through without him.

“I’ll give you a few minutes head start,” he winked. With a grateful laugh, Remus pulled Pete into a turbulent hug before Pete pushed him toward the stairs. He took them two at a time.

At the last set of stairs, Remus stopped, looking down at Sirius, who was already looking back up, waiting for Remus to come into view. He was in mid-drag, pulling polluted breath deep into his lungs, his stubbled cheeks caving starkly, when his eyes met Remus’. His mouth fell slightly ajar, the smoke filtering out slowly and deliberately with expended breath.

“Moony,” he smiled, stamping his cigarette out with the toe of his boot as Remus met him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hi, Pads,” Remus said, somehow feeling absolutely relieved at having Sirius within arm’s length, but entirely unsure of how they were supposed to proceed from there.

_He said he liked it, but is it too soon to go in for an unauthorized hug?_

_I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, but GOD, I need to hold him._

_Maybe I should just ask permission. That would probably be safest._

Before Remus could decide on any definitive course of action, Sirius stepped in, softly slipping his arms around Remus’ waist, nuzzling his chin into Remus’ shoulder. At first, Remus went stiff, not wanting to cross any boundaries, not wanting a repeat of yesterday.

But Sirius was so _soft_. So _warm_. His hands moved up Remus’ back to pull him in closer, the whiskers on Sirius’ cheek grating against Remus’ throat. Remus practically melted into him, winding his arms around Sirius’ waist as far as he could get them, outside his jacket.

“I wasn’t sure …” Remus started, but Sirius interrupted.

“I can’t promise I’ll _always_ be alright with being touched from now on,” he said on a single breath, as if wishing he didn’t have to say it at all. Remus picked up his thought.

“I’ll leave it fully up to you. I won’t ever touch you unprovoked.”

“No, fuck that,” Sirius immediately argued, his tone bitter, and Remus knew that bitterness wasn’t directed at him. “I don’t want you to feel like shit when _you_ want it.” For the briefest of moments, Remus’ felt his cheeks go hot. There wouldn’t be a time he _didn’t_ want it.

“Then we make a signal,” he said, shifting his shoulders to get that much closer to Sirius, and Sirius bunched the fabric of Remus’ shirt in his fist in response.

“A fucking _safe word_?” Sirius scoffed slightly, the anger still on his tongue.

“I was thinking more like a safe spectrum,” Remus said, injecting a soft laugh into his voice to try to ease the tension in Sirius’. “A range of numbers, letters, colours, I don’t –”

Sirius interrupted, snuggling his cheek against Remus’. “Colours.” Remus smiled.

“Any palette specifically?” For a moment, Sirius’ hands moved down to Remus’ hips, but apparently that proved to be a bit too much for him, because they retreated rather quickly back up to the middle of Remus’ spine. However, he did turn his head to rest his forehead against Remus’ throat, the warmth of his breath swirling down into the collar of Remus’ shirt.

“Gold first,” Sirius breathed out, drawing up his face just enough to run the length of his nose along the underside of Remus’ jaw. “Like the colour of your eyes.”

“Are we at Gold right now?” Remus said, trying to steady his breathing, swallowing hard and feeling his Adam’s apple bob over the curves of Sirius’ face.

“Not even close,” Sirius admitted, his voice dropping low, rumbling against Remus’ collarbone. Remus couldn’t stop the shaking breath that drew up from his throat as Sirius settled again with his temple against the curve of Remus’ jaw. “I’d count this as Bronze.” Remus couldn’t imagine Sirius wanting to be touched more than _this_. He wondered what Sirius defined as Gold.

“You skipped Silver,” Remus said, but he felt the near imperceptible shake of Sirius’ head.

“No, s _ilver_ is…” He let out a breath. “Silver isn’t a very good colour for me.”

“But it’s the colour of _your_ eyes,” Remus argued, practically a whimper.

“And my mother’s,” Sirius said emphatically, a tremble in his voice as he shrank down further into Remus’ arms, and Remus gladly held him that much tighter. He wasn’t sure what Sirius’ mother had to do with the situation, but she was obviously a sore spot in Sirius’ heart.

“Okay,” Remus replied quietly. “Silver is all-points stop, then.”

“No, not quite.” He hesitated. “Let’s designate that Black,” Sirius choked out.

“Black?” Sirius was quiet for what felt like a long time.

“Black is my surname,” he finally whispered. “A name that I _hate_.” With a silent sigh, Remus’ eyes fell closed. What the fuck had Sirius’ family _done_ to him? Was it someone in his family that had abused him? Remus shuddered, stifling down sick at the idea.

“Do you want to tal–”

Sirius breathed out, short and quick. “No, I really don’t.” Before Remus could say anything more, Peter called down from the top of the stairs.

“Moony!” he shouted, not waiting for a response. “I’m bringing your keys down with me, since I’m _on my way down_!” With a soft laugh, Sirius pulled back, flattening his palms against Remus’ lower back, in an effort to smooth out the knots Sirius had bunched into his shirt. He let his hands drag around Remus’ waist and up Remus’ chest, to unruffle Remus’ collar. Remus couldn’t help the breath he sucked in through his teeth.

“Do I look alright?” he asked, craning his neck to loosen his collar. One of Sirius’ dark, high-arching brows rose high and his tongue darted out to pull his bottom lip into his teeth.

“Oh, I _really_ shouldn’t answer that right now, Moons.” A violent blush stormed through Remus’ skin as he sheepishly ran his hand up the back of his neck, with Sirius’ mercurial gaze following his movements precisely. When Pete bounded down the stairs behind them, Sirius’ gaze drew back to meet Remus’. It remained unbroken, even when Peter reached the bottom of the stairs. In fact, Pete had to give them both a shake to move them out of it.

“Padfoot, listen,” Pete clicked his tongue. “I know how _killer_ Moony looks in that shirt, but we’re on a bit of a time schedule, so let’s get moving, shall we?”

This time, the blush was in Sirius’ cheeks.

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

“Sirius?” It took him a moment to realize he had fallen asleep, which was, in itself, a pleasant surprise, considering he hadn’t had a Valium to get him there and he hadn’t even bothered to take the Xanax, because it didn’t keep the dreams at bay, anyhow. Even more of a surprise was the fact that he heard Remus’ voice wake him from that sleep. Until he realized he was laying on top of his mobile. Of _course_. He had fallen asleep talking to Remus last night.

As he scrambled to excavate his mobile from the sheets, he remembered their conversation from the night before. The conversation where Remus told him, if Sirius had asked, that he would have kept going. He would’ve held Sirius in his arms and kissed him fully. With that thought in mind, Sirius let out a rather breathy, whining moan, only realizing afterward that he was breathing that hard directly into the phone underneath him.

“Shit,” he growled, wondering if Remus caught that. “Fuck.” He put the mobile to his ear, falling back into the pillow. “Moony, I fell asleep.”

“So did I,” Remus said, underneath a soft laugh. Sirius felt his whole body soften at the sound of Remus’ voice, at the sound of his laugh, still low with the rumble of sleep. “Pads, I have to go. Support group thing.” He wasn’t ready to let Remus go yet, but was he willing to go to therapy just to spend time with him? “You’re still welcome to come.”

All it took was Remus’ invitation and Sirius suddenly considered it, just to see him, just to have him within reach. “I really need to see you.” But he hesitated. “I still don’t …” he started, feeling the stress boiling up with acid in his stomach. “You’re the only one I … can I just sit in?”

“Of course,” Remus replied, that extra sort of softness in his voice when he was trying to put Sirius’ nerves at ease. “No requirement to share.” Desperate to see Remus, Sirius agreed.

“Yeah, alright.” The stress of being around other people – people other than the five hooligans he called his own – had started to rear up in his chest, so he changed the subject. “You know, I didn’t thank you for last night. Or yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Remus asked. Sirius licked his lips.

“You’re not going to make me say it again, are you?” he laughed. If Remus asked, he would admit it again – that he _liked_ being held by Remus, being touched, being _not_ -kissed.

“Say what again?” By the tone of Remus’ voice, Sirius knew he was just fishing, inciting Sirius into repeating himself. He surprised Sirius by adding, “Turn it into a production for me.”

Oh, no – Remus couldn’t be the only one having fun. Sirius decided to have his _own_.

“Oh, Moon of my life,” Sirius sang into the line, dropping his voice down lower than even he was aware it could go. “Never before have I known the warmth and tenderness I found in your embrace.” It was like stepping back into this version of himself and, for once, it felt comfortable and familiar, instead of hostile. “How I have longed to be held as you’ve held me.”

It was uncomfortably silent – he’d expected at least a sympathy laugh. When Remus finally responded, it was in the one way for which Sirius was most unprepared.

“ _Jesus_ , Sirius,” he breathed out into the line, the depth and rhythm of his voice sending a shiver down the full length of Sirius’ spine. _Oh_ , this might’ve been a _mistake_. Sirius retreated.

“You literally asked for it, Moony, I don’t know what to tell you,” he laughed nervously, making sure his voice went back up, a little higher than his normal pitch, overcorrecting for the intensity he’d injected into it. It seemed Remus took a breath to recover, as well.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “You hugged _me_ , you know.”

“At the time, I didn’t really know I was going in for the All-Inclusive Package,” he grinned, thinking of the way Remus had buried himself within Sirius, how he’d pressed himself to Sirius as close as physically possible, the brush of lips against skin. Even with the heat still out in his flat, Sirius still felt flush, just in the memory. “That hug? Now _that_ was a production.”

“You literally asked for it,” Remus shot back. “From what I heard, you said you’d do _anything_.” And Sirius realized, quite abruptly, that he was absolutely in love with how Remus wasn’t afraid of the banter, didn’t treat him like glass after knowing how fragile he really was.

“I bet it was James, that son of a bitch,” Sirius growled playfully, letting it fall off into laughter. He really needed to text James. There was a lot that hadn’t been said.

“Moon of my life,” Remus repeated, voice dreamy. “I kind of like that.”

Sirius’ smile was resolute. “I stole it from Game of Thrones.”

“I know.”

“When can I see you?” he asked abruptly, realizing how desperate it sounded, but the need to see Remus far outweighing any accompanying indignity.

“I can meet you at yours, if you want.” There was something unsaid in Remus’ voice, as if he knew that Sirius would disagree, but took the chance anyway.

“I don’t …” Sirius said quickly. After everything, Sirius still didn’t want Remus to know where he lived. If Remus knew how he lived, he would worry constantly. “It’s not …”

Remus interrupted carefully. “Would you rather meet me here?” Sirius could never possibly thank Remus for how much, how _completely_ he understood him.

“Please,” he sighed. When Remus gave him the address, Sirius was half-devastated to find out how close Remus was, how close he had been the night before, how easily they could have had that very important conversation face-to-face. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting impatiently.” The laugh that followed, drenched in warmth and wholly unadulterated, prompted a sigh of satisfaction from Sirius’ lips.

“I’ll hurry, love.” After hanging up, he scrambled to dress and get out the door as quickly as possible. He didn’t even notice whether Marlene’s door was open or closed. As soon as he was on the stairs, he pulled out his mobile, pulling up his text conversation with James.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Padfoot_ : sorry I flipped out yesterday

**Prongs: don’t apologize, I’m sure you had**

**your reasons. You okay?**

_Padfoot_ : definitely. talked to Moony.

**Prongs: ???????**

_Padfoot_ : ???????

**Prongs: that roughly translates to**

**Prongs: feel free to tell me about your**

**conversation with Moony**

**Prongs: if you please.**

_Padfoot_ : maybe it’s personal

**Prongs: well, I mean, yeah, no shit.**

_Padfoot_ : well I’m not fucking telling you now

**Prongs: PADFOOT PLEASE**

**Prongs: I NEED TO KNOW YOU’RE BOTH ALRIGHT**

_Padfoot_ : you can just take my word for it

**Prongs: for real – if it’s too personal, I’ll really**

**take your word for it**

_Padfoot_ : what if I told you Remus kissed me

**Prongs** :

_Padfoot_ : you sent me a blank text again

**Prongs: because I’m fucking speechless**

**Prongs: I don’t even know what to ask**

_Padfoot_ : I definitely didn’t hate it, in

case that’s what you’re wondering

**Prongs: OH THANK FUCK**

**Prongs: YOU SHOULD’VE FUCKING LED WITH THAT**

**Prongs: I THOUGHT MOONY WAS A PERV**

_Padfoot_ : GOD NO. he apologized, but it

was my fault, really.

**Prongs: wait, why did he apologize? WAIT**

**WHY DID YOU LEAVE THEN**

_Padfoot_ : in case you couldn’t tell, Prongs,

I’M SUPER FUCKED UP

**Prongs: you are not.**

**Prongs: you’ve BEEN THROUGH things that**

**are fucked up. That’s not what you ARE.**

_Padfoot_ : are you and Moony related how

are you both THIS supportive of me

**Prongs: I raised him. He is my son.**

**Prongs: I’m still confused about the apology**

_Padfoot_ : it wasn’t a KISS. Just a brush of his

lips to my skin is all. He thought I left

because I was uncomfortable around him

**Prongs: IS that why you left?**

_Padfoot_ : Not at all. I left because that fucked

up thing that happened to me …

_Padfoot_ : it’s … in that … field. you know?

_Padfoot_ : having Remus … like that. It

brought up some weird shit.

**Prongs: and you called him last night …**

_Padfoot_ : yeah. and we worked through it

**Prongs: and this thing that wasn’t a kiss**

**Prongs: you didn’t hate it**

_Padfoot_ : I REALLY didn’t hate it

**Prongs: does that mean you LIKED it?**

_Padfoot_ : mate, I REALLY liked it.

**Prongs: so are you two … together?**

_Padfoot_ : not … yet? Maybe?

**Prongs: how do you feel about that?**

_Padfoot_ : I’m really hoping for it.

**Prongs: FUCKING HELL I KNEW IT**

**I’M BLOODY DELIGHTED, PADS**

**_________________________________________________________**

During the conversation with James, Sirius had gotten on the tube and off again, already walking up to the building at the address Remus had given him. The moment he looked up from his mobile, he saw Remus, half-hanging out of a third-story window, looking down at him.

Sirius’ breath caught in his throat at the sight of him – at his honey-coloured hair, curly and unruly and artfully mussed, at the way his cheeks pulled in smoke from the cigarette between his rosy lips, at the dark collared-shirt that made the stubble on his face seem darker. The subtle smile on Remus’ lips slowly uncovered beneath the cigarette between them.

“Hi,” Sirius said, suddenly feeling very lacking in breath. He held his hand up, intending to wave, but couldn’t get himself to move. Looking at Remus like this – the way he looked after waking up from a very long night, all a mess, but in the most attractive way – somehow, it _exhausted_ Sirius. It made him want to crawl back into bed, but not his own.

“Hi,” Remus mouthed back, the word hidden in smoke, as he let his head fall back against the frame of the window. Sirius took a moment to admire the curves of his throat.

“Come down,” Sirius managed to call out through the tightness in his chest, and he laughed when Remus seemed to desperately scramble to indulge that request. Sirius found the stairs and waited at the bottom, finishing off his cigarette.

In the middle of his last drag, Remus appeared at the top of the stairs, and the way he looked down at Sirius, his hair still hopelessly messy and the collar of his shirt popped up on one side, Sirius hadn’t a single clean thought left in his imagination. If it wasn’t for Remus’ voice in the back of his mind, reminding him, ‘ _You’re allowed to want things, Sirius_ ,’ and remembering that Remus wanted him _back_ , he would have panicked at how inappropriate it all felt.

When he opened his mouth to speak, it was all smoke, unable to convince himself which set of words it was that he wanted to say first. He went with the one that was always first.

“Moony,” he breathed a sigh of relief, flicking his cigarette to the concrete and putting it out with his boot, all without taking his eyes off Remus, as he came down the stairs.

“Hi, Pads.” As he reached the bottom, he fidgeted with the tails of his shirt, as if unsure of what to do with himself. Today, Sirius could make that decision for him. Carefully, Sirius stepped closer, sliding his hands around Remus’ waist and letting himself nuzzle his face into the crook of Remus’ neck, almost mirroring their position from the day before.

At first, Remus went tense at contact that he didn’t necessarily expect, but the closer Sirius pulled him in, the further he dissolved into Sirius’ arms.

“I wasn’t sure,” he said, his voice gone a bit marshy. 

“I can’t promise I’ll always be alright with being touched from now on,” Sirius prefaced, knowing there would inevitably come days that any touch would feel extremely intrusive, depending on what nightmare he had, what memory he had. Remus understood, but not quite.

“I’ll leave it fully up to you. I won’t _ever_ touch you unprovoked.” But that wasn’t _really_ what Sirius wanted. He didn’t want Remus to feel like he could _never_ touch him, how miserable that would be for both of them. If this developed into something, and Sirius very much hoped it would, he wouldn’t want Remus to hold that part of himself back forever, not when Remus was as _visceral_ a person as Sirius had ever met. His native language was _touch_.

“No, fuck that,” Sirius spat out angrily. “I don’t want you to feel like shit when you want it.” After he said it, he realized how it sounded, his face growing a little flush. He was grateful, in more ways than one, that his face was buried in the curve of Remus’ throat.

Remus didn’t seem to notice. “Then we make a signal,” he compromised, running his fingers up and down along Sirius’ spine. Again, Sirius was irritated that they even needed to have this conversation in the first place, all because Ethan Fucking Carlisle had to take what wasn’t his.

“A fucking safe word?” Sirius hissed bitterly. Remus was wholly unbothered.

“I was thinking more like a safe spectrum,” he laughed, surely in an attempt to get Sirius to calm down, and _God_ , did it work. His laugh was like a lullaby. “Like a range of numbers, letters, colours, I don’t kn–” Instantly, Sirius knew he could work with _that_.

“Colours,” he voiced quickly, already seeing them in front of him. The amber colour of Remus’ hair in the sunlight, sitting with his leg dangling out of his window. The dark blue of the rumpled collared shirt he had on, muted by a curtain of cinder-grey cigarette smoke trickling down from his pale, pink lips. The purple of the bruises on his knuckles from the day before, when he had furiously pounded his fists into some immoveable entity, willing to break his own fingers rather than let the destructive emotions take their toll on his life, instead.

“Any palette specifically?” Remus asked. Not quite in his mind, lost in the landscape of colours that reminded him of Remus, his hands drifted down to Remus’ hips, only for his consciousness to be ripped forward, reminded of the last set of hips his hands had rested upon.

“Gold first,” Sirius sighed, correcting his grip back up into the folds of Remus’ shirt, trying to get back to the shades of Remus. Maybe just to spite himself for not being allowed to hold Remus the way he wanted, he turned his head, aligning his face with Remus’ throat.

Sirius continued. “Like the colour of your eyes.” The warmth of his breath mixed with the heat of Remus’ skin and circled back for him to breathe in again. Rather sharply, he realized he could place his lips against Remus, just _so_ easily, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to have any reason to pull away. Instead, he ran the tip of his nose just underneath Remus’ jaw, catching at the untended stubble. Remus took a very unstable breath inward.

“Are we at Gold right now?” he asked, voice wavering. As Remus swallowed, the sharp lines of his throat dipped and pulled, rough against Sirius’ cheekbones.

“Not even close,” Sirius breathed out into Remus’ skin. Oh, he could get _so_ much closer than this, if ever his past didn’t get in the way. “I’d count this as Bronze.” Another staggered breath – it was nearly becoming _indecent_ , the way Remus breathed against him. 

“You skipped Silver.” Sirius bared his teeth. He wondered if Remus could feel it.

“No,” Sirius corrected, trying to keep calm. “Silver … silver isn’t a good colour for me.”

“But it’s the colour of _your_ eyes,” Remus argued with a whine in the back of his throat that Sirius found _much_ too appealing. He took a short breath.

“And my mother’s,” he said sadly, working himself as close as he could get to Remus, forehead pressed tight to Remus’ neck. Remus’ arms tightened around him.

“Okay,” Remus conceded smoothly. “Silver is all-points stop, then.”

“Mm, not quite,” Sirius sighed. There was one worse level than the colour that _only_ reminded him of his mother. “Let’s designate that Black.”

“Black?” Remus repeated, and when Remus said it, it almost didn’t sound so bad. But it still invoked blown pupils staring at him from a high-backed red leather chair as Sirius crouched under a large oak desk. It was disheveled dark hair that was normally so pristine, a rumpled suit jacket, the dark behind his closed eyes as he tried so viciously to pretend that he was anywhere except where he was. It still conjured images of his childhood home, of his mother telling him that she didn’t care that he was being grossly assaulted by his professor _daily_.

“Black is my surname,” Sirius finally choked out, sinking deeper into Remus’ grasp, as far as Remus’ arms could hold him. “A name that I _hate_.”

Remus was quiet for a moment. “Do you want to tal–”

“No,” Sirius replied quickly. “I really don’t.” All he wanted to do was dissolve into Remus and forget everything that had happened in his life before they met. Before he could get comfortable in Remus’ arms again, Peter shouted at them from three flights up.

“Moony, I’m bringing your keys down with me, since I’m on my way down!” he shouted rather deliberately, as if to warn the two of them that he was about to disrupt, and Sirius couldn’t keep the smile from his face. Good God, how much he _loved_ these nerds.

Reluctantly, he pulled back from Remus, but not without letting his hands linger on Remus for as long as he could get away with. He took a few seconds to smooth the back of Remus’ shirt, from where his fists were knotted. And he _may_ have let his hands slide _all_ the way around Remus’ waist and up to his chest, savoring every rise and fall of his skin, to adjust his collar. As Sirius’ touch traversed his torso, Remus pulled in a breath through clenched teeth.

“Do I look alright?” he asked, a bit breathless, tugging at his collar and rolling his shoulders, giving Sirius a glimpse of bare collarbone. The inevitable and inescapable rise of Sirius’ brow followed, and he worried his bottom lip, letting his eyes flitter down Remus’ chest.

“Oh, I _really_ shouldn’t answer that right now, Moons.” His tone was practically a moan, he couldn’t have said it differently even if he tried. The deep red that bloomed in Remus’ cheeks spread down his throat, into the open collar of his shirt. Sirius’ eyes meticulously followed the motion of Remus’ hand as it ran through the back of his hair, rapidly darting back over to meet Remus’ gaze directly. Even when Peter tumbled down the stairs, neither of them broke it.

“Padfoot, listen,” Peter said, and Sirius glanced over. “I know how killer Moony looks in that shirt, but we’re on a bit of a time schedule, so let’s get moving shall we?”

With a twist in his lips, Sirius tried so hard to hide his smile, blushing furiously.

They were a little late to group. When they walked in, a brunette sitting at the head of the circle of chairs smiled in their direction. Other gazes, however, were not as friendly. Not _unfriendly_ , they just seemed surprised, more than anything. _Very_ surprised. Sirius held onto the elbow of Remus’ sleeve, but it turned out that they weren’t looking at Sirius at all.

There were whispers among a few of the members and Sirius couldn’t help but hear Remus’ name on their lips. The brown-haired girl pulled her lips into her teeth, as if growing irritated by their indiscretion, giving Remus a rather apologetic look. On the other hand, Remus seemed entirely unfazed by it as they took a trio of seats on the girl’s side of the circle.

“Obviously, we’ve got a lot to unbox today,” the girl said with a sigh, crossing one leg over the other. “So, let’s just say what’s bound to be said. We weren’t sure whether or not to expect you, Remus.” Before Remus could even reply, a bloke from across the circle spoke.

“Remus _Lupin_?” he asked curiously. Immediately, every eyebrow in the room rose, multiple people turning in their chairs to get their own look. Sirius could see the wave of various expressions cross over Remus’ features as he glanced at the kid through the side of his eyes.

“Yes, Remus _Lupin_.” The brunette fought a roll of her eyes. “And he’s here for the same reason as you, so if we could please be respectful of each other’s –”

“It’s alright, Alice,” Remus interrupted delicately. “It was on the news, then?” The girl named Alice let her head fall forward, cascade of light brown hair, before nodding slightly.

“You’re welcome to talk about it, Remus, but by _no means_ should you feel obligated,” she emphasized, glaring slightly across at the bloke, who was grimacing in apology. In an effort to reassure them both, Remus waved his hand to show he wasn’t bothered.

“No, I …” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, a short, scoffing laugh slipping through his lips. “I’m alright. Considering. My friends have been with me through this whole shitstorm, so it hasn’t been as bad as it would’ve been without them.” With a quiet smile, he glanced over at Sirius. Sirius returned it, stifling down an urge to take Remus’ hand. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Alice said with a smile, but it faded. “I can’t imagine what must have been going through your mind when you found out.” Remus nodded, letting out a breath.

“At first, I was just angry, you know?” Sirius watched the tightening of Remus’ jaw underneath his dark stubble. “It was almost like they were telling me that none of it mattered, that it wasn’t important that he fucked up my entire life.” A quiet but tense clench went into Remus’ fist, held at his side. Sirius continued arguing with himself about reaching out.

“It’s reasonable for you to feel that way,” Alice interjected, prompting him to continue.

“Now I have this, um …” Remus paused, another clench of his jaw, this time precluding a hard swallow. “This irrational fear that he’s going to come back. I can’t even talk myself out of that one.” He let out a short breath, almost a laugh, through his nostrils.

“Why is that irrational?” Alice encouraged him along.

“Because he got what he wanted, right?” Remus laughed again, not a genuine laugh, not the one that Sirius _loved_ , but one that was stinging and bitter. The golden colour of his eyes had turned tawny and dull, the dark circles under his eyes like the bruises on his knuckles. “There’s not an inch of my skin left that doesn’t have his autograph on it. He’s proven his point.”

“What point is that?” Sirius knew she was only asking these questions to get Remus to talk it through, because she _knew_ , but it was hard to watch him grow more irritated with every step, hard to watch him _come apart_. Every question, another crack to his soft exterior.

“He _told_ me the point he was trying to make, over and over.” Remus’ reply was practically a snarl, teeth ground and lips curled. “To make me like _him_.” Sirius shuddered. How different their situations were, and yet, how frighteningly similar.

“He didn’t succeed, Remus.” Alice’s tone became a bit sharper, she leaned forward.

“ _Didn’t_ he?” Remus seethed, a deep furrow between his eyes as he pushed a shaking hand through his hair. “Jesus, just _look_ at me, Alice.” With a fierce pull, he wrenched the collar of his shirt away from his skin, displaying more of the vicious scars at his throat. “This is _all_ I am.”

“You _know_ the scars didn’t make you who you are.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit, and you know it,” Remus groaned, letting his head fall back, rolling it around to ease the building tension in his shoulders. “Do _you_ know what kind of person I would’ve been without them? Without Fenrir? Because _I_ don’t,” he snapped, cynical and cruel, leading Sirius to wonder if this was what group therapy was like for Remus all the time. Several times, Sirius opened and closed his own fist, not knowing if Remus would _want_ him to reach out. After all, Peter was sitting on the other side of him, completely still, only listening.

“No, Remus, I don’t. What I do know is how you’ve taken those scars and made them conform to _you_ , not the other way around,” Alice insisted, watching Remus closely, leaning her elbows onto her knees. Those words sent an aching chill down Sirius’ spine. He wondered if he would ever be able to say the psychological scars that Carlisle had left on him were _conformed_ to him and not _defining_ him. Remus, however, let out a long breath, but not a satisfied one.

“Which is a nice sentiment,” Remus huffed, sliding his hands down his thighs. “So, maybe that’s why they set the bastard loose, because I’m … what, all _better_ now?” At the choice of words, in that dripping, sarcastic tone, Sirius grimaced. “Because I should preface that with the God-awful dream I had last night where Fenrir is standing at the end of my bed, and I’m five years old again, and he’s _right_ there. Telling me he doesn’t fucking _bite_.” A quivering breath fell from Remus’ lips, staggered and broken and hollow. He let his head fall forward.

Without another hesitant thought, Sirius reached out and placed his hand over Remus’, where it was trembling on top of his knee, and, for a moment, it stilled. Until Remus pulled his hand away. In that split second, Sirius tried to ignore the breaking of his heart, tried to remind himself that it wasn’t meant to be hurtful. It just wasn’t what Remus needed right then.

He was wrong. Immediately after pulling away, Remus wrapped Sirius’ hand in both of his own, both of them still rattling at the same manic frequency, and brought his hands to his lips, with Sirius’ hand inside. Eyes closed, Remus breathed in deeply, like the lingering scent of nicotine on Sirius’ fingers could somehow calm him. Maybe it did.

When he breathed out, shuddering still, but _warm_ , he glanced over at Sirius, the expression in his amber eyes finally just as warm again and filled with some unspoken, unnamed thing. A thing that Sirius had never found in anyone’s eyes but _his_.

The girl named Alice went on, talking about how it was important for them to recognize that the things that happened to them would never truly go away, a fact that Sirius was struggling with himself. For some reason though, with his hand in Remus’, Remus’ thumb sliding delicately along his own, the weight of his past didn’t feel as suffocating as it used to.


	4. Tuck My Hair Behind My Ears and Touch My Soul Again

**_ Remus  _ **

The rest of the meeting went by without Remus saying a word, but Sirius kept his hand in Remus’ the whole time. The longer the meeting went, the more people spoke up, the more time Remus had to regret the way he’d reacted toward Alice. He was just _angry_. All this that happened with Fenrir, and he hadn’t been given a lot of time to process it _solely_. So far, he’d been working through it while simultaneously working through this thing with Sirius.

As soon as the meeting ended, Alice stood, walking the group members to the door, so, after a reassuring squeeze to Sirius’ hand, Remus followed. Even after Sirius took his hand unannounced, it still pleasantly surprised him when Sirius was on his heels, with Pete in tow.

“Alice, I really hope you know that none of that was directed at you,” Remus sighed heavily. With a light, understanding smile, Alice squeezed his shoulder, just the way James did.

“Remus, we’ve been friends way too long for me not to recognize a frustrated rant when I hear one,” she said, letting Remus find relief in her smile. “Which was completely justified, by the way. I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I just knew …” she trailed off, pursing her lips.

“Oh, you were definitely right to think that.” He blew out a puff of air. “I got calls and texts from people I didn’t even know I _knew_ last night. It was … overwhelming. I’m glad you _didn’t_ call,” he grinned. With one more sigh, Alice pulled him into a hug, scratching softly.

“You always know you can talk to me outside of group,” she whispered into his unruly mane of hair. When she pulled away, she looked toward Sirius. “But it looks like you’ve got a good group of your own.” Remus glanced back just in time to see the pink in Sirius’ cheeks. Without fully turning, Remus held out his open hand, behind his back, wondering. The feeling of Sirius slipping his hand into Remus’ without any more prompting than that was electric.

“I’ve got three more now who are _just_ like Pete,” Remus said with a laugh, turning to look at Peter, who was grinning wide and toothy. “They’re all disgustingly supportive.”

Alice let out a loud laugh just as Remus felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket. At first, he didn’t intend to let go of Sirius, but it seemed Sirius was getting a text too. _And_ Pete? They all collectively pulled out their mobiles to find a mass text from James.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Prongs: LADS, MY HOUSE TONIGHT. I**

**MISS YOU ALL. IT’S HORRIBLE.**

_**Wormtail** : I MISS YOU TOO PRONGS_

**Padfoot** : I’LL NEVER LEAVE YOUR SIDE AGAIN,

MY DARLING

_Moony_ : we were literally JUST there,

like, yesterday.

**Prongs: Moony, you’re really killing the vibe**

** Padfoot ** : don’t pretend you’re not pleased,

Moons, I see the grin on your face.

**Prongs:** **ARE YOU HANGING OUT WITHOUT ME??**

**_Wormtail_** : _we all are. didn’t you get the memo?_

**Prongs: WHAT FUCKING MEMO?? I HAVE NEVER**

**BEEN MORE BETRAYED IN MY LIFE.**

_Moony_ : calm down, we’re at group

**Prongs: AND I CAN’T GO TO GROUP WITH YOU???**

** Padfoot ** : Prongs, love, we’ll never leave you again

**Prongs: WAS THIS INTENTIONAL**

_Moony_ : completely intentional.

**_Wormtail_ ** _: of course it wasn’t‼_

** Padfoot ** : you’ll come to the next one. This

I do solemnly swear.

** Padfoot ** : P.S. I can’t come over just yet. Soon. I’ll

send Moony and Wormtail ahead with all my love.

**_________________________________________________________**

“You can’t?” Remus asked, looking up from his mobile. In the midst of their text conversation with James, Remus had an entire nonverbal conversation with Alice, over the mysterious stranger who had been holding hands with Remus all throughout group. While Sirius’ eyes had been on his screen, Alice raised her eyebrow, shifting her finger back and forth between he and Remus, and Remus just shrugged with a smile. She mimed texting, Remus nodded, agreeing to tell her about it later. With a wink, she left them to their texting.

“I’ve got to …” Sirius took a breath, hesitating. “try to find Marlene.”

“Oh,” Remus said, trying not to sound disappointed. Of course, he _was_. Not in the fact that Sirius needed _that_ brand of help with his anxiety, only that Remus wouldn’t be with him. 

“As soon as I track her down, I’m yours,” Sirius hummed, a calm sort of smile on his lips that Remus had never seen before. For only a second, he let his hand slip back into Remus’, giving it a tight squeeze before he slipped away. Remus’ heart faltered. _I’m yours_ , he’d said.

“Ooh, Moony, he’s _all_ _yours_ ,” Pete gushed. Remus rolled his eyes, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lighting it as they walked out into the sunlight.

“Shut the fuck up, Pete,” Remus laughed through teeth clenched around a cigarette, the heat from his blushing cheeks amplified by the ash dangling from his lips.

He might’ve had a bit too much to drink at James’ house. Normally, Remus was careful _not_ to drink – in the not so distant past, he’d had a few issues relying on the way it numbed him into complacency or the way it helped him sleep or how it sometimes helped him forget the sensation of Fenrir’s teeth sinking into his skin.

Maybe part of why he had taken that first drink of Irish whiskey at James’ house was to celebrate. After all, things with Sirius were looking promising and _goddammit all_ , if that didn’t feel like cause enough to celebrate. The longer it went without Sirius showing up, the more Remus worried. And the things that Remus worried about made him drink a little bit more.

At first, he worried about Sirius – had he found Marlene? Remus didn’t know what exactly Marlene was supplying him, just that a Xanax was considered a change. Had he gotten it? Had he had an emotional relapse and overdosed somewhere? Just from Sirius’ first conversation with Marlene, he _knew_ Sirius had a habit of taking too many when things got bad.

Eventually, the worries evolved into fears, in general. _Remus’_ fears. Which always meant Fenrir. The more he drank, the more he could hear Fenrir’s tobacco-scraped voice grinding through his ears, which only led him to drink more. At some point, he wasn’t sure if his high alcohol tolerance was a helpful deterrent from getting drunk or an irritant for not being able to.

Finally, when James and Peter, both drunk in their own rights, were engrossed by their intensely competitive game of FIFA, and Lily was trying her best to keep them from pitching their controllers across the room, Remus slipped away. He wandered through the house, ending up in James’ room, knowing at least that there was a balcony where he could smoke.

Once there, with his cigarette lit, he noticed that the roof next to the balcony was relatively flat, and all he could think about was how nice it would be to lie down to look up at the stars. He carefully climbed over the balcony railing, only stumbling a bit with the dismount.

Cigarette bouncing between his teeth with every movement, he pulled his mobile from one pocket, his earbuds from the other. He started his favourite album, settling back onto the roof with his hands behind his head, wondering if he could see this many stars from his flat.

It was a bit cold out but, to Remus, it was a welcome change. Ever since his _stay_ with Fenrir, ever since the appearance of scar tissue on every possible surface of his skin, Remus couldn’t feel temperature quite the same as other people. It constantly felt like he ran ten degrees hotter than anyone else. The doctors tried to tell his mother it was nerve damage, from the various instruments that had been dug into Remus’ skin, but that didn’t explain the increased sensitivity of his skin to touch, _especially_ the skin that had scarred. No matter the science, it was nice to get away from the warmth of an enclosed space and into open, cool air.

One of his favourite songs played in his ears and he smiled at how well his current state mirrored the lyrics. How many times he’d listened to this song, recognizing the similarities of the author’s situation to his own, appreciating someone’s ability to verbalize it, better than he could.

_Hurt and grieve, but don’t suffer alone. Engage with the pain as a motive._

_Today, of all days, see how the most dangerous thing is to love._

As his thoughts turned to Sirius, he looked for his namesake in the sky, hoping that finding the Sirius that shone in the dark would ease his worries about the Sirius alone in the dark. It didn’t. He let his eyes fall closed, drawing in a breath of smoke and imagining the erratic way it swirled around his lungs, how maybe it matched the rhythm of the song in his heart.

Just as the song changed, Remus felt a tug at his rolled sleeve, on the arm closest to the balcony. In surprise, he looked over to find Sirius, smiling, sitting next to him. Remus pulled out the earbud closest to Sirius, letting out the smoke in his chest.

“I was worried about you,” he said, trying to decide if there was a drunken slur in his words that he wasn’t quite able to hear. If there was, Sirius didn’t seem to notice it.

“I’m sorry,” he replied softly, lying on his side next to Remus and propping his head up in one hand, his elbow resting next to Remus’ on the shingles. “What are you listening to?”

“Australian band called Gang of Youths. I think you’d like them.”

“I’m a purist, Moony. I only listen to Bowie, Floyd, Queen, and Zeppelin,” Sirius said, twisting his accent to make it sound more posh, a sly grin on his lips.

Remus playfully rolled his eyes. “Shut up and listen.” He held out the earbud for Sirius to take, but Sirius had to move in significantly closer to Remus to get it into his ear. In response to the new closeness, Remus unfurled one of his arms, letting Sirius rest his elbow right above Remus’ shoulder, leaving Remus’ arm in the space underneath Sirius. With his reservations lowered a bit by the excess alcohol, Remus may have let his hand slide along Sirius’ back, the sliver of Sirius’ ribcage that wasn’t pressed to the roof. Sirius’ eyes instantly met his.

_I will look at love as more than just an instrument of pain._

_And will give myself completely to the moving and the strange._

With Sirius’ gaze fixed resolutely on his, Remus wondered if Sirius could make out the lyrics, wondered if Sirius could hear them the way Remus heard them. Sure, it was too soon to say there was _love_ between them, having only known each other for two days, but they’d already been through so much together, grown so much together. Not love yet, but _something_.

Often, Remus could tell what Sirius felt just by the change in the colour of his eyes, and it was no different in the dark. When he was withdrawn, his eyes were as grey as spent cigarette ash. When he was happy, the silver of his eyes was kinetic and lustrous, like spring water spilling from the rim of an open vessel. But now? His eyes were _translucent_ under the starlight.

A smirk in the corner of his lips, Sirius brought his hand up to Remus’ face, his sterling eyes traveling over Remus’ features, stalling at his lips. His hand stalled there, too, for only a moment before he drove it forward. His head tilted slightly as he delicately slipped his fingers across Remus’ parted lips, only to pluck the cigarette from between them. The arrogant smirk on his face grew as he took a drag from Remus’ cigarette, watching Remus _watch_ him smoke.

And Remus did watch. He watched the deep pucker of Sirius’ cheeks as they caved under the negative pressure in his mouth. He watched the graceful, quiet flutter of Sirius’ dark eyelashes as they closed to revel in the unspoken pleasure of his addiction. He watched the nearly imperceptible changes of Sirius’ throat when he exhaled, casting charcoal over indigo sky.

When his attention came back to Remus, the smugness in his expression had wilted and, while Remus couldn’t name the thing that took its place, it sent his heart racing. With a hard swallow, Sirius flicked the cigarette somewhere off into the night, shifting his hips slightly closer to Remus’. The song playing in Remus’ left ear didn’t go unnoticed.

_‘Cause I wanna overcome. And try to love someone._

With no indecisiveness, Sirius brought his hand back to Remus’ face, first pushing through the messy half-curls at Remus’ temple. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the _want_ , or it was Sirius’ warmth, but Remus couldn’t keep the breath in his chest. The moment air passed through Remus’ lips, Sirius glanced down to catch their movement – his hand naturally followed, grazing over Remus’ cheekbone. His fingers dusted so lightly, but so deliberately over Remus’ lips.

If Remus didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought … no, he _didn’t_ know any better, because Sirius leaned in, only _just_ letting his lips touch Remus’, as if testing the water. And, for Remus, the water was so fucking fine. He wanted to dive into it headfirst, heedless and whole, if he could, without driving Sirius away. Oh, God, just to taste him was almost enough.

 _Yes_ , he wanted _more_. He wanted to knot Sirius’ long, dark hair in his fingers. He wanted to pull Sirius’ leg across his hip, he wanted Sirius to straddle him. He wanted to taste the nicotine straight from Sirius’ tongue. But he wanted _Sirius_ to want it. So, he waited, their lips together, barely moving, the song playing out the words that Remus could only long to say.

_I will not spend the years depleted of my willingness to try,_

_It won’t hurt this way forever, it ain’t worth the overtime._

_I’m not looking for redemption nor some shallow kind of bliss,_

_Lay me down and kiss me deeply, show me everything I missed._

As if those words gave him the answer he had been looking for, Sirius’ hand drove deep into Remus’ hair, curving around the back of Remus’ neck to pull him in. His lips parted further, moving against Remus’ mouth, _into_ Remus’ mouth, kissing him so much deeper, so much needier than Remus could have ever expected.

As an uncertain reply, with his fist nervously bunching the fabric at the back of Sirius’ shirt, Remus slipped his tongue along Sirius’ _just once_. At first, Sirius slowed, the movement of his lips paused as he took a deep breath in through his nostrils. Remus braced.

“ _Moony_ ,” Sirius breathed out, hungry and desperate, as his grip on Remus’ neck tightened, and he pulled him in closer. This time, it was Sirius’ tongue beyond Remus’ teeth, and Remus didn’t even _try_ to stifle the aching moan that burrowed up from his lungs.

_I will not play this out discreetly, it is real and unashamed._

_I am human now, and terrified, but want it all the same._

The fabric in Remus’ fist shifted up until Remus could feel the give of Sirius’ skin, soft and warm, underneath his knuckles. He nearly let his hand slip up the back of Sirius’ shirt, but he stopped. Sirius had only kissed him, Remus couldn’t be sure he wanted more than that.

“Which colour are we right now?” Remus asked breathlessly, quickly, before letting his lips return to Sirius’, who pulled back, but only to bury his face into Remus’ neck. “Is _this_ Gold?”

“Not yet,” Sirius panted into the curve of Remus’ jaw, kissing a wet trail all the way down Remus’ throat. Remus craned his neck to let Sirius at whatever skin he wanted.

“Define them for me, Pads, I don’t want to ...” Sirius picked up his thought, his motion slowing a little as he dipped his fingers into the mussed collar of Remus’ shirt.

“Black is everything off limits,” Sirius said, going entirely still as he spoke his own name, clearing his throat afterward, as if to dispel it completely. “Silver is … only if I ask for it.”

“Okay,” Remus breathed out, trying to talk himself down a bit. “Bronze.”

“Remus, I hate this,” Sirius groaned, finally looking back to meet Remus’ gaze, his fingers toying with the first button at Remus’ shirt. “I hate putting these fucking limits on you.”

“I _don’t_ ,” Remus insisted, holding Sirius by the chin. “I don’t ever want to do anything that you don’t want me to do. Knowing ahead of time just makes it easier for _me_.”

“But if we’re going to be …” Sirius trailed off, glancing up suddenly, and Remus knew what he would say, if he could. _If we’re_ together _, you’ll want to touch me without limits._

“It may not be this way forever,” Remus assured him, and Sirius took a breath, nodding and letting out that breath slowly, through puffed, pink cheeks. “Bronze,” Remus said again.

“Bronze,” Sirius repeated, as if trying to determine how to describe it. “There are only a _few_ things you have to ask for.” Sirius pulled his bottom lip into his teeth, still fussing with the button of Remus’ shirt, as if unsure if he wanted to keep it fastened. 

“Give me some examples,” Remus said, wetting his lips.

“A kiss,” Sirius replied quickly. “Or, uh … _more_ than a kiss.” His magnetic gaze drew back to Remus’ immediately, his skin pulsing from the clenching of his jaw. “Certain … touches.” As the volume of his voice dropped, that button he’d been fingering popped open and Sirius spread his fingers out underneath the seam of Remus’ shirt. Remus let out a heavy breath.

“There’s a certain touch I need permission for right now,” Remus admitted, voice rasping from lack of breath, clenching and unclenching the fist that was buried in Sirius’ shirt.

Sirius’ eyebrow rose, religiously watching the movement of his hand across Remus’ chest, stopping to touch every one of Remus’ scars that he could reach. As he slid the pad of his thumb up the curve of Remus’ throat, he nodded – barely, at first, and then eagerly.

“Yeah?” Remus clarified, careful only to let just the tips of his fingers contact the skin of Sirius’ back before confirming. “Is this alright?” In response, Sirius pushed open Remus’ lips with his own, sliding his tongue achingly slow down into Remus’ mouth.

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathed hard into the kiss as Remus let his touch stray past the borders of Sirius’ shirt, pushing and kneading against Sirius’ supple, bare skin.

“Tell me if I go too far,” Remus cautioned, his hand circling up to dip into the curve of Sirius’ slender waist. “Promise me.” A series of short kisses to Remus’ lips followed and Remus wondered if Sirius was intentionally following the rhythm of the song.

_The heart, the heart, the heart, the heart is a muscle. And I want to make it strong._

“I promise, Moony.” Sirius’ movement slowed a bit, he paused to draw back and take a full look at Remus., and Remus was allowed a full look in return. God, Sirius was _gorgeous_. The way he looked at Remus was undefinable, but apparent, all at once. His shoulder-length hair was still tied up from before, but half of it was hanging down into his face, anyway. Remus reached up, tucking some of it behind his ear, letting his knuckles brush down Sirius’ jaw as he drew back his hand. That indiscernible look on Sirius’ face deepened and he let it stay as his lips settled onto Remus’ jaw, moving down, but savoring every step for as long as he was allowed.

“We didn’t define the limits for Gold,” Remus reminded him. As his reply, Sirius hummed against Remus’ throat, vibrating the end of his words. The vibrations sent an arch into Remus’ spine that traveled in a very straight line down, right into Remus’ hips.

“We don’t have to,” he mumbled into Remus’ skin. “There aren’t any.” The breath that Remus let out wasn’t intended to be a moan, but it came out that way all the same.

“None? Are you _sure_?” Sirius’ lips had reached his collarbone, he pushed Remus’ shirt off one shoulder to get at more skin. More flushed, aching, thrumming skin. In fact, the scar underneath Sirius’ lips was Fenrir’s bitemark, it circled Remus’ shoulder in full. Of all his scars, _that_ was the one that still ached the most, the worst. For some reason, Sirius’ lips meeting the place where Fenrir’s lips had once been left an agonizing sort of pleasure, like Sirius was drawing out a caustic poison that burned on the way out, but was _stimulating_ once it was gone.

“I want there to be times when you don’t have to ask.” Sirius’ voice trembled a bit. “I want there to be times when you can just _have_ me. Whatever way you want.” As he leaned over Remus’ chest, he pressed his lips to another rather brutal scar over Remus’ heart, one so deep that Remus had always been sure if he hadn’t been found very soon after Fenrir had engraved it into his skin, it might’ve taken his life. The effect of Sirius’ lips on that wound was rather different than the one before. It was like the complete _relief_ of pain – no pain on the way to pleasure, no poison to work out first. Just abrupt, pure release. Remus let his head fall back, a prolonged satisfied groan pushing up from his lips, his fingers gripped a little too tightly onto Sirius’ waist. 

“Oh, _fuck_.” The sensation of Sirius’ tongue against his skin, having him breathe out hot against Remus’ overly sensitive scars resulted in an eager rush of blood to the center of Remus’ hips. His first thought was taking care of that problem _imminently_. Abruptly, he realized how badly this could all go. “Oh, God, I really hate to do this, but I’ve got to stop. Like, _now_.” He slipped his hand quickly out from underneath Sirius’ shirt, pulling the earbuds from their ears and shoving them, and his mobile, back into his pocket. He may have tried to _adjust_ , slightly.

“What?” Sirius pulled back, concerned. “What happened?”

Remus took an unsteady breath, swallowing hard. “I’ve had way too much to drink tonight and I’m not … and you’re _really_ …” He stopped, grimacing. “I can’t talk myself _down_.” At first, Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, but they quickly went the other direction, rising into his hair.

“ _Oh_ ,” Sirius breathed out, staring quite resolutely at Remus’ lips.

“And I really don’t want to do something to fuck this up, because I’m drunk as _shit_.”

Sirius let out a short breath, almost a laugh. “No, you’re not –” Remus interrupted.

“Jesus, you’re such a good kisser,” Remus groaned, placing his hand over his eyes, peeking through his fingers to see Sirius smiling down at him, metallic eyes fluctuating.

“Yeah?” Biting down on his bottom lip, Remus reached up to tuck another strand of Sirius’ dark hair behind his ear, letting his fingers trail from Sirius’ ear down his jaw.

“And I like you _so_ much,” he hummed, his eyes scattering over Sirius’ features, before he let his hand slip from Sirius’ face, back to his own forehead. “But you’re too soft and too _pretty_ , for Christ’s sake, and I’m really drunk, and I want you _way_ too much, so if I don’t get away from you, if I don’t stop now, then I might forget to –” Sirius quieted him by placing his finger over Remus’ lips, to which Remus responded by letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment. In reply, Remus brought his hand down from his forehead, circling Sirius’ wrist, and pursed his lips delicately against Sirius’ skin, dragging the ridges of Sirius’ fingerprint over his bottom lip. 

“You’re not the only one, Moony,” Sirius admitted softly, moving his finger from Remus’ lips to cover them with another kiss, which didn’t last as long as Remus wanted.

“Not the only one …” Remus trailed off, leaving Sirius to clarify.

“Not the only one who’s had too much to drink. And definitely not the only one who’s getting too … _involved_ ,” Sirius breathed out, his eyes traveling from Remus’ lips, down his chest, stopping at the next button of Remus’ shirt. His fingers were instinctively drawn to it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Remus winced. “Are you … Did I …” Sirius laughed.

“You’re noble to a fault, you know,” he sighed, rolling over onto his back. Remus wasn’t sure if it was to intentionally give him a view of just how _involved_ he had gotten but seeing the evidence for himself certainly wasn’t helping his own problem at all. “I kissed _you_ , Moony.”

“You didn’t ask for tongue,” Remus argued, pulling the cigarettes from his shirt pocket, still half-hanging from his shoulder. As he pushed the cigarette through his lips, he looked over just in time to see Sirius roll his head back, pulling down his loosely tied hair 

“If you want me to behave, you can’t say shit like that,” he growled, glancing over at Remus from the corner of his eyes, eyes the colour of the moon.

“Then you can’t look at me like that, either,” Remus mumbled, lighting the cigarette and getting in one good drag before Sirius plucked it from his lips. When Remus looked over, Sirius was sucking in smoke like it was the last breath he’d ever take. And Remus was captivated.

“You’d better get used to it,” Sirius breathed out, a cloud of smoke blunting the breathtaking view that Remus had been admiring. “I have a feeling I’ll be looking at you like this a _lot_ more often.” With one more inhale of smoke, Sirius leaned over Remus one more time, blowing all the smoke in his lungs down Remus’ throat, kissing him roughly.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Remus moaned – it dissolved into a desperate, pathetic laugh. “I have to get away from you.” He didn’t move away. Instead, Sirius moved closer, kissing him again.

“Just a few more,” Sirius mumbled against Remus’ lips.

“No, I …” Another kiss, his words cut off. “I’m going to …” Words melted into sounds and, without thinking, Remus’ hand went into Sirius’ hair, claiming a soft fistful of it. When Sirius’ kiss grew deeper, more intense, his tongue burrowing deep into Remus’ mouth, the grip of Remus’ fingers increased in response, pulling delicately at Sirius’ wavy hair wound in his fist.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Remus,” Sirius whispered into Remus’ mouth, and Remus suddenly lost himself entirely. His free hand went without instruction up Sirius’ shirt, gripping tightly to Sirius’ bare waist, to pull him closer, to feel Sirius pressed hard to his leg. The stifled trembling of Sirius’ breath and the way he flinched just slightly at Remus’ touch sent Remus sprawling back.

“Shit. _Shit_ ,” Remus growled, ripping himself away from Sirius. For a moment, Sirius scrambled to get him back, but Remus was out of his reach in an instant.

“Moony, it’s alright, it’s my fault,” Sirius assured him, holding out his hands, cigarette still smoldering between his fingers. Remus folded his shaking hands behind his neck.

“I knew I was going to fuck this up, Pads,” Remus groaned, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his head between them. He felt Sirius’ hand against his back.

“It wasn’t … it was instinct. I’m wired to retract.” Remus looked up. “I was getting just as carried away as you were.” He brushed his thumb over Remus’ lips. “And you could _tell_ , so you responded, the way a normal fucking person would respond. It’s not your fault I’m not normal.”

“You’re just as normal as I am,” Remus said with a sad grin and Sirius let out a sigh of relief, placing the cigarette back between his lips and standing carefully, feet unsteady on shingles. “I have to get off this roof. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so …” Cautiously, Sirius answered Remus’ unfinished thought, eyes going blank as he swallowed hard, letting out a wet breath.

“ _Unhinged_?” His eyes met Remus’ again. “Because that’s how I feel.”

Remus sighed, but his smile shone through. “Right. Stark raving.”

“God, we _do_ need to get off this roof,” he laughed, as Sirius held out his hand to pull Remus to his feet. Remus let his hand linger in Sirius’ for a moment after he stood.

“Especially if you keep …” Remus let out a breath and Sirius’ dark eyebrow rose high.

“ _Oh_ ,” Sirius said, licking his lips, drawing back his arm to pull Remus close. “ _Please_ tell me what it is that makes you crazy, Moons. I may need this in the future.” Once Remus was within the reach of his mouth, Sirius quickly retracted the cigarette from his lips. Craning his head slightly, he settled his lips into the curve of Remus’ neck, moving them slowly and deliberately.

“The way you say _fuck_ is obscene,” Remus admitted on a heavy breath, letting his head fall back as Sirius’ lips traveled, his teeth closing gently over Remus’ collarbone. Remus felt the pressure of Sirius’ mouth change sharply and he wondered if Sirius was _intentionally_ trying to mark him, or if they were both just getting carried away again. Either way, there was some part of Remus that _wanted_ that mark – a mark left by desire, by wanting. A _love_ mark, and not a scar.

“I learned it from you,” he mumbled, moving up Remus’ throat, and Remus could feel the moan that drew up from his chest vibrate erratically against Sirius’ mouth.

“Pads, please, _God_ ,” Remus laughed, whining pitifully, taking Sirius by the shoulders and holding him at arm’s length. “If you kiss me _one_ more time, I’ll come apart.”

“I’m rather interested in watching that happen,” he grinned, biting down on the tip of his tongue with his canines. With a breath, Remus felt his eyebrow spike, and he let it rise.

“Oh, you will. Eventually,” Remus smiled cleverly, leaving Sirius to paw at the back of his shirt as he pulled himself up over the balcony railing, only to realize that James and Peter were standing right in front of him on the other side. And his shirt was still hanging from one shoulder.

Smugly, Sirius leaned over the railing, grinning wildly with all his teeth at James and Peter, who stood staring, slack-jawed and blinking absently. With one smooth motion, Sirius vaulted over the balcony railing, placing the cigarette between his lips again. He stepped over to Remus, pulling Remus’ shirt back onto his frame and giving him a gentle pat on the chest, and a wink, before coolly gliding past James and Peter, whose mouths were still hanging ajar.

“Gentlemen,” he mumbled on his smoke as he left. With his own haughty grin, Remus started on the top buttons of his shirt, rolling his shoulders to settle it more properly.

He cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, walking briskly after Sirius.

“Oh, like fuck we will!” James screamed, and Remus could hear him (and Peter) barreling down the hallway. Sirius glanced back at Remus, giving him a nod before racing off.

Remus went running right after him.

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

“I think they forgot about you,” Sirius heard as he ascended the stairs to his flat, seeing Marlene leaning on the frame of her open door, cigarette in hand.

This was the second time he had come back, looking for Marlene. The first time he came back, Dorcas told him that Marlene was out, making a personal delivery to some rich kid all the way out in fucking Brighton. At first, Sirius had waited in his flat, but the cold turned out to be too much. It was practically warm outside, how the fuck was it getting so cold _inside_? He’d spent several hours in a pub next door, waiting for Marlene to get back.

“I think _you_ forgot about me,” he shot back with a raised brow, crossing his arms and leaning on his own door across the hall. She let out a puff of smoke.

“Listen, I’ve been _trying_ to get you the Valium, hand to God,” she mumbled, placing the cigarette back between her teeth. “There’s a fucking shortage or some shit. Out of my hands.”

“That’s fucking terrific. Because the Xanax is _piss_ ,” Sirius grumbled, taking his own pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and pulling one from it with his teeth. “Got a light?”

Marlene nodded and she went to hand him the lighter, but Sirius leaned out, cigarette in his lips, waiting for her to light it. For a moment, she watched him carefully, brows furrowed, then flicked up a flame, holding it to the end of Sirius’ smoke. He sucked in a few short puffs, stoking the embers before taking a long, satisfying drag. Marlene continued to stare.

“In all the time I’ve known you,” she said, eyeing him. “You’ve _never_ let me light you up.”

“I’m a new fucking man, Marlene,” he muttered through the cloud of smoke pouring from his lips, trying to subdue a smile by replacing the cigarette in his teeth.

“That so?” Marlene asked with a knowing glance. “Anything to do with your new friend?”

The smile got through. “You have no idea.” He paused. “Though it also might have to do with the copious amount of liquor I drank in the bar next door while waiting for _you_.”

Marlene cocked an eyebrow, leaning in. “Oh, shut the fuck up. You’re not even drunk.”

“Not even close,” Sirius scoffed. “Just buzzed enough to not panic over being out of Valium for three days.” He inhaled slowly, trying to remind himself that it wasn’t Marlene’s fault.

“You can’t say _copious_ if it didn’t get you drunk,” she laughed.

“Trust me, you do not want to know the appalling amount of liquor it would take to get me drunk.” He bared his teeth. “I took _ten_ Valium the other day, Marlene. Think about what I had to resort to before _that_.” The expression on Marlene’s face was of immediate concern, and Sirius had to redirect the conversation to clear it. “My heat is still out? Is that who forgot about me?” With a roll of her eyes, Marlene nodded. Sirius was just glad the topic of conversation was finally moving away from the rapid progression of his substance abuse problem.

“Yeah. I’ve called three times today and they’re deliberately ignoring me now,” she said with an irritated huff, which all came out as smoke from her pale lips. “You can stay with me. You know, since you’re a new fucking man and all.” Sirius let out a loud laugh, but it dissipated rather quickly as he realized he was going to have to go another night without Valium _or_ heat.

“I may stay at James’,” Sirius mused, nervously nibbling on the inside of his lip, flicking absently at the end of the cigarette in his fingers. If he couldn’t have his Valium, at least he could have his Remus. God, he was treating Remus like he was one of Sirius’ addictions. 

“Lily’s posh boyfriend?” Marlene chuckled, her tone a bit incredulous, as she eyed Sirius warily, for the second time. “How did _you two_ get on, exactly?”

“He’s not as posh as you’d think for how fucking minted that kid is,” Sirius shrugged with another puff of smoke. “He’s a disaster, really, which is … you know, my whole _thing_.” He grinned widely as Marlene let out a stifled laugh, smoke bursting from her nostrils.

“Disaster or not, if you’re sleeping in a strange house, you’ll need something to get you through the night,” she said, twisting inside the door, her foot keeping it open.

“Don’t bother with the Xanax.”

“I know, it’s piss, _whatever_ ,” Marlene groaned loudly, the top half of her body hidden within her flat. “I’ve got Klonopin or Ativan, take your pick.”

Sirius made a face. “What’s the difference?” Marlene leaned back out of her door frame just to show Sirius that she was rolling her eyes, then she disappeared again.

“I sell drugs on the street, Siri, I don’t know the fucking difference.”

“You’re just a shitload of help then, aren’t you?”

“Alright, I _do_ know they’re both benzos, so they’re just like Valium.” Her foot still held open the door, Sirius imagined her stretched out beyond all reason, just to keep her foot there.

“Right, and just like Xanax,” Sirius said with a groan. Finally, Marlene flicked her foot against the door to swing it open and she appeared, holding two small, plastic baggies.

“Listen, do you want the drugs or not?” She dangled them both in front of her like a dog treat and, this time, Sirius was the one to roll his eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbled. He didn’t want a repeat of the night before.

“Which _one_?” she pressed insistently.

“Surprise me.” Carelessly, she tossed one bag back into her flat and began to fish out a couple yellow tablets from the bag that remained, before tossing that one, too.

“Consider them loaners until I get your precious Valium back,” she said, holding out the tablets in pinched fingers, prepared to drop them into Sirius’ waiting palm.

“Thanks,” he said, taking them from her without taking the extra steps to avoid the physical contact of their hands. Marlene stood still, mouth agape, wrist limp.

“Jesus, you really are a new fucking man,” she said, raising an eyebrow and turning the corners of her mouth down, the cigarette inside it. He slipped the tablets into his pocket.

“Get ready for the shock of your life,” he grinned as he enveloped her in a delicate embrace, the distance between them significantly more than when he held Remus.

“What the _fuck_ ,” she mumbled, only partly sarcastically, and Sirius laughed, letting her go and retreating into his flat, which was _still_ somehow colder than it was outside. Quickly, he packed a small bag before racing back out again, giving Marlene a wink as he locked the door behind him. Again, she replied with the _most_ confused expression.

“Thank you, Marlene, I mean it,” Sirius said again, barely hanging onto the ever-shortening cigarette butt between his teeth, ash poised to fall at any moment.

“Tell Remus I said hi,” she said with a knowing grin. With a return smile, he flashed his eyebrows up for a split second before vanishing down the stairs.

James overcompensated for the slight chill outside by blast-heating his house. Even Sirius, who had been shivering rather violently on the way over, shed his jacket immediately upon entering. He could already feel sweat beading at his temples, rolling down his spine.

“ _Padfoot_!” It was nearly a shriek – Sirius froze in a defensive position as James leapt toward him, but James stopped short before Sirius even had to say anything. “You’re here.”

“I told you I would be,” he said, taking James by the shoulder. The look in James’ eyes was like Sirius had just asked him for his hand in marriage – confused, excited, terrified.

“What the fuck is _this_?” he asked elatedly, his voice going up three octaves higher than Sirius thought it should, eyes so wide that Sirius could see exactly the divide between the brown and green. Sirius’ eyebrows rose in amusement as Lily approached from behind James.

“We’ve had a little to drink tonight,” she said, pursing her lips.

“Lily, he’s tou– Pads, you’re _touching_ me. Can I _hug_ _you_?” James shouted, the shrill of his voice leading Sirius to hold one ear. As he took in a breath to answer, he sharply realized that his first inclination was to say _yes_. It could’ve been the liquor. Or how safe he felt around this group of people, around James. Maybe it was knowing that Remus was somewhere close.

“Be gentle with me, it’s my first time.” He held his arms straight out at his sides and James stared for a moment, as if unsure if this was a trick. More carefully than Sirius would’ve thought, considering how tipsy he was, James stepped in, wrapping his arms around Sirius’ chest and giving him a light squeeze, and Sirius squeezed back with the same pressure. James rested his chin on Sirius’ shoulder with a contented sigh for only a moment before pulling away.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” he asked, smiling dreamily. Lily smacked him.

“I’ll treasure this moment forever,” Sirius replied with an overly dramatic sigh, batting his eyes at James before leaning over to Lily. “Can you get me a little of whatever he’s been having?”

Lily laughed loudly, waving her hand behind her as they walked into James’ disgustingly massive house. Eventually, they made it to the room where Sirius had first met Remus, where Pete was glued to some football video game, and Sirius couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, Pads,” Pete called from the white sofa, without taking his eyes from the screen.

“Hiya, Worm,” Sirius called back as Lily placed a glass in Sirius’ hands.

“Take it easy, will you?” Lily sighed. “I can’t babysit all of you.”

“Speaking of all of us,” Sirius said, taking a long sip. “Moony?” The look on Lily’s face was wholly ridiculous – she literally lit up. She didn’t even do that with James. But it faded so fast that, at first, Sirius’ stomach dropped out. His first thought was that something _happened_.

“Wait, he was just here,” she said, glancing around. “Goddammit, I lost one.” With a loud laugh, Sirius downed the rest of his drink, which Lily quickly refilled for him, likely in an effort to keep James from drinking any more. Sirius downed that one, too. Lily rose an eyebrow.

“I’ll take this one. You’ve earned a break. Thanks, Lil,” he said with a wink, but as he started to turn, Lily pinched the sleeve of his shirt, tugging him back.

“Is it asking too much to get in on that hug?” she grinned. Sirius shook his head, smiling.

“Not at all,” he said, wrapping one arm around her neck and pulling her in.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered. “James was worried.”

Pete gasped from the couch. “Hold on, are you hugging us _all_ now?” he exclaimed as Lily gently pulled back, laughing. The smile on Sirius’ face kept growing. “Am I eligible for one?”

“I’ll come back for you, Pete, I swear.” Peter’s nose crinkled, but as James picked up a controller and settled down onto the couch next to him, he sank into the cushion again. 

As Sirius wandered through the Potter’s excessively large house, he thumbed the tablets tucked away in the pocket of his jeans. It was practically out of habit that he’d gotten these from Marlene. Or maybe it was paranoia? The alcohol was dulling his sense a little, he couldn’t _feel_ the pulsing anxiety that usually lived inside his veins.

Still, the longer he went without finding Remus, the more his panic seemed to invite itself back in, and the more he considered dry-swallowing one of those tablets in his pocket. But he didn’t want to rely on a drug to be normal. He wanted Remus to see that there was a difference in his life, once Remus came into it. Having Remus was _better_ than Valium.

For the second time, he peered into James’ room, looking for Remus. The first time, he hadn’t noticed the doors to the balcony were wide open. With a furrow in his brow, Sirius made his way over – he could see the _whole_ balcony. Remus wasn’t there. Once outside, however, a shape of dark and light on the roof next to him caught his attention. He smiled.

There was Remus Lupin, lying under the stars in the cool, night air. At the sight of him, Sirius felt immediate relief. With his earbuds playing some unheard melody and the smoke trickling from the smile on his lips, he looked more at ease than Sirius had ever felt in his entire life. As carefully as he could, Sirius worked his way over the railing, stepping lightly on the shingles underneath his feet, and settling down next to Remus, who never even opened his eyes.

Finally, Sirius tugged softly at the sleeve of his dark blue shirt, from where Remus’ hands were folded behind his head. When Remus opened his eyes, they didn’t have to search out to find Sirius’ gaze, as if he opened them inherently knowing where to look to find Sirius. The golden colour of Remus’ eyes was molten under the moonlight, like ocean waves catching the last warm rays of a gilded sunset before they crashed and broke on wet sand.

Remus pulled out the earbud closest to Sirius. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Sirius could think to say, trying to absorb the peace that radiated from Remus like heat. He rested next to Remus on his side, propping his head up with one hand, realizing that _actual_ heat radiated from Remus, and Sirius tried absorbing that, too. “What are you listening to?” he asked, hearing the soft beat sifting into the air between them.

“Australian band called Gang of Youths. I think you’d like them.”

“I’m a purist, Moony. I only listen to Bowie, Floyd, Queen, and Zeppelin,” Sirius smiled shrewdly, throwing the volume of his voice low and contorting into an accent that sounded a lot like his mother’s. For some reason, the thought of his mother didn’t turn his stomach the way it usually did. Had to be the closeness of Remus, the way he blinked slowly at Sirius.

“Shut up and listen,” Remus said, his smile softer and easier than it had been earlier in the day, as he held out his free earbud for Sirius to use. As Sirius pulled it to his ear, he realized he would have to get much closer to Remus for it to reach. He inched in, his elbow knocking to Remus’ as they got close, still tucked underneath his head. To accommodate this new proximity, Remus slipped his arm into the space underneath Sirius, his fingers curving around Sirius’ waist, drifting down his back. It somehow felt _very_ different than every prior touch, and maybe it was just the alcohol in Sirius’ blood, or maybe it _was_ different. Sirius met Remus’ gaze to find out.

With Remus’ hand on his back, with the sounds of his slow breaths in Sirius’ open ear, he had a hard time focusing on the sound coming in through the earbud. When Remus’ fingers seemed to tap out the rhythm of the song against Sirius’ skin, Sirius focused on listening, Remus _watching_ him listen. At just the right time, he caught a lyric that he otherwise would’ve missed.

_I will look at love as more than just an instrument of pain._

_And will give myself completely to the moving and the strange._

_Give myself completely,_ he repeated, watching the changing colour in Remus’ eyes as clouds overhead occluded the moonlight, darkening the resin in Remus’ gaze. In Sirius’ _past_ life, the life before Ethan Carlisle, Sirius had never even considered that depth of commitment, giving all of himself to another person. And that was before _all of him_ included the mangled, corrosive wreckage of heart and bone and muscle that cowered at human touch. In a weekend, this boy with lazy, golden curls and a sharp gaze full of want and wit molded that wreckage back into a human being. A human who realized how dreadfully he’d ached for the touch of a sculptor.

Maybe it was too soon to say that he had given himself completely to Remus, too soon to say that he’d been sculpted, molded, made _whole_ by Remus. Still, unlike everyone in his previous life, Remus was the first one who made Sirius realize that he was worth something. That he _deserved_ to be touched with care and promise. Not out of requirement, not out of spite, not out of desire to fulfill some reviled fantasy, but out of _nurture_.

With a smile uncurling from behind his teeth, Sirius reached up to Remus’ face, allowing himself just a moment to feel the warmth in Remus’ cheeks before sliding his fingers around the cigarette in Remus’ mouth. As he did, he let his fingertips brush tenderly over Remus’ lips. God, they were so soft, so warm, so inviting. His hand lingered, hovering in place, and Remus let his lips part, as if making some show of letting Sirius have his way.

Quickly, Sirius stole the cigarette from between Remus’ teeth, putting it to his own lips, taking a long, pleasured drag. He imagined that he could _taste_ Remus on the paper and through the smoke. As he glanced over at Remus, he expected amusement in his expression. That was _not_ what he found. Instead, Remus’ gaze was intractably fixated on the purse of Sirius’ lips.

When Sirius pulled in a deep breath, Remus’ line of sight was drawn to his cheeks, his eyebrows shifting in expression of a thousand different unsaid things. Sirius pandered to Remus’ unbroken attention of him, reveled in it, letting his eyes drift closed as he expelled the smoke from his lungs with an exaggerated, but soft, pleasured sound.

Sirius opened his eyes to find Remus’ again, but his attention first fell on the movement of Remus’ chest, rising and falling rapidly. His eyes flicked up to find Remus’ deep gaze was already intently locked onto his, his eyes slightly hooded, his lips still parted. And it had been so long since he could remember feeling this _craving_ to touch someone, but there it was, swarming in his chest, uncontrolled and discontented. To satiate it, he tossed the cigarette from the roof, moving as close to Remus as he could get. The rise and fall of Remus’ chest quickened.

There was no arguing with himself, no convincing required. His hand was in the soft, loose curls of Remus’ hair before he even had to consider the implication. Oh, the implication was there, Sirius was blindingly aware of it, but not _afraid_ of it. As Remus let out an uneven breath, Sirius’ eyes shot down to memorize the movement of his mouth. The end of his breath puffed out his bottom lip like a pout and Sirius didn’t stop himself from reaching out to feel it.

Remus’ lips were warmer than others, Sirius thought, or maybe his hands were cold. He could, after all, feel a biting sort of breeze catch at the hem of his shirt, but Remus’ hand on his back kept it from sweeping into the fabric. His touch to Remus’ lips didn’t satisfy that craving. It was like chewing nicotine gum. It was a pretty good substitute, but a substitute, all the same.

Realizing there was only one direction he could go, Sirius leaned in, unsettling Remus’ parted lips with his own, but only just. He discovered that it wasn’t that his hands were cold, but that Remus’ mouth, even the cusp of Remus’ mouth, was _scorching_ , but not unpleasantly so.

It was hot showers that turned your skin pink. It was a light sunburn after falling asleep in tall summer grass. It was sitting in front of a fireplace, the feeling of a ceramic mug full of cocoa in your hands. It was getting into a hot car to find your favourite song was playing on the radio.

_I will not spend the years depleted of my willingness to try,_

_It won’t hurt this way forever, it ain’t worth the overtime._

_I’m not looking for redemption nor some shallow kind of bliss,_

_Lay me down and kiss me deeply, show me everything I missed._

_Show me everything I missed_ , Sirius sang to Remus, but only in his mind. The additive addiction of Remus Lupin to the dulling of the alcohol, plus the cold of the air contrasted to the heat of his kiss drove Sirius further. His hand cupped the back of Remus’ neck, he tilted Remus’ head to minimize the space between their mouths, kissing him profoundly.

There was a moment that Sirius wondered if he was taking this too far, if the alcohol had dulled _too_ much, if he couldn’t tell how Remus _truly_ felt about taking this step. That moment perished when Sirius felt the brief, uncertain slip of Remus’ tongue along his own, his fingers gripping urgently at the fabric of Sirius’ shirt. In the next moment, Sirius went mindless.

“Moony,” he heard himself moan, rather shamelessly, felt his breath rush into Remus’ mouth. Like any of his other addictions, Sirius couldn’t stop at _one_. Instead of asking Remus to do it again, _God, Moony, please, do it again,_ Sirius did it for himself and drove his tongue beyond Remus’ lips. The stimulated breath he got in response was fucking lyrical.

If Sirius thought the edge of Remus’ lips had been hot, the inside of his mouth was searing. Sliding his tongue along Remus’ was like striking a match, the sparks evolving into a full-breadth flame between them. Even the palm of his hand on the back of Remus’ neck felt like he was holding it over a hot stovetop. He had never wanted to burn so badly.

The deeper the kiss, the more Remus’ skin seemed to vibrate underneath Sirius’ touch, like he couldn’t remain still. Like he had to _move_ with Sirius. Like he needed to get as close as he could. His hands spread erratically over Sirius’ back. Inevitably, Sirius’ skin became exposed to cold air, and Sirius waited for Remus to cover it with his touch, begged for it, but not aloud.

“Which colour are we right now?” Remus suddenly asked, speaking into Sirius’ mouth. “Is this Gold?” he asked, not letting himself get too far removed from Sirius’ kiss with each word.

“Not yet,” Sirius let his lips drag down Remus’ throat, catching harshly at the darker, prickly stubble on his skin. Remus leaned his head back to let Sirius explore him.

“Define them for me, Pads, I don’t want to …” This was really the last line of conversation Sirius wanted to have. He nearly snapped his teeth closed, to bare them in frustration, if not for Remus’ tongue suddenly between them. But he indulged the request anyway. For Remus.

“Black is everything off limits,” he said, the speaking of his own name drawing up disgust from his chest. He cleared his throat to get rid of the taste. To distract himself from the thought of his family, he slipped his fingers into the collar of Remus’ shirt, eliciting a soft intake of breath from Remus’ open mouth. “Silver is … only if I ask for it.” Saying it all out loud felt so stupid.

“Okay.” Remus didn’t seem to think it stupid. He spurred Sirius to continue. “Bronze.” But Sirius had begun to get irritated – not at Remus, but at himself, for requiring an entire spectrum of when Remus was allowed to touch him. Just then, he couldn’t imagine _not_ wanting it.

“Remus, I hate this,” he grumbled, pulling back just enough to look Remus in the eyes, but not getting far enough away to stop fingering the top button of Remus’ shirt. Remus’ lips were pink and wet. Sirius wanted to stop talking. “I hate putting these fucking limits on you.”

“I don’t,” Remus said, his voice firm but kind. “I don’t ever want to do anything that you don’t want me to do.” He held Sirius’ face. “Knowing ahead of time just makes it easier for me.”

“But if we’re going to be …” Sirius trailed off, realizing he didn’t even know what they were. Was Remus his _boyfriend_? Friends with partial benefits? Remus sidestepped it.

“It may not be this way forever,” he said, his thumb absently stroking through the stubble on Sirius’ jaw. Sirius puffed out his cheeks in defeat and Remus smiled. “Bronze,” he repeated.

“Bronze,” Sirius sighed. “There are only a few things you have to ask for.” His attention was drawn again to the button at his fingertips. He debated what to do with it.

“Give me some examples,” Remus requested, darting his tongue out to wet his lips, roping Sirius’ attention instantly. He said the first thing on his mind.

“A kiss,” he said aloud. “Or … _more_ than a kiss.” His eyes rose quickly to meet Remus’ to gauge his reaction to that statement, but Remus kept that expression well concealed. Sirius continued. “Certain touches.” His voice dropped out as the button opened and there was suddenly so much of Remus’ skin exposed, every sliver of it with a matching scar, each of them raised and pink and faded. There was nothing on Sirius’ mind other than what those scars would feel like under his fingertips, so he slipped his hand underneath the seam of Remus’ shirt. A low, hollow breath simultaneously drew up from Remus’ chest. With every scar that Sirius traced, Remus seemed to arch up from the roof, silently begging Sirius for more.

“There’s a certain touch I need permission for right now,” Remus panted, rasping, his fist at the center of Sirius’ back shifting uncertainly at the border of shirt and skin. An eyebrow rose autonomously on Sirius’ face as he worked at the scars lining the ridges of Remus’ throat, and he nodded – the movement of his head in approval increased as he readied for Remus’ bare touch.

“Yeah?” Remus made sure to clarify, lightly settling only the pads of his fingers on the bare skin of Sirius’ back. Jesus, his touch was like fire, too. “Is this alright?” _More_ _than alright._

“ _Yes_ ,” Sirius whined softly, showing Remus just how much he enjoyed his touch by letting his tongue drive indolently into Remus’ mouth, savoring every nuance of the way he tasted.

“Tell me if I go too far.” His hand was half-way up Sirius’ shirt, circling all the way around Sirius’ back until he reached Sirius’ hip. “Promise me,” he nearly begged. Before Sirius could answer, a line of the song he had forgotten was playing in his ear struck his attention.

_I let bad love betray me once, but I was barely out of high school then._

_And I guess I fear the same result – that none will take me as I am._

Sirius’ stopped to press several delicate kisses to Remus’ lips, pausing to take a look at Remus underneath him. He let out a breath. “I promise, Moony.”

_I want to be loved. I want to be whole again._

_So tuck my hair behind my ears and touch my soul again._

Everything was written on Remus’ face – everything he had been through literally carved into his skin, but not _just_ that. Every time he worried about Sirius, another line at the corner of his mouth. Every hopeful smile leaving behind a wrinkle in the corner of his eyes. Every kiss they had yet to share, every laugh that was to come. Every heartache, every disappointment. Every first and every last and all of the in between. It was _all_ in Remus’ expression, and turning lyric into life, he reached up and tucked the long hair behind Sirius’ ear. And Sirius had never experienced anything so beautiful, so unadulterated, so _holy_ in all his life.

_The window is wide, the post unfulfilled._

_And I just ask you to be patient, if you’ll have me still._

_If you’ll have me still_ , Sirius replayed internally, remembering what Remus had said to him only the night before. _‘I think you’ll find I’m rather patient.’_ His first thought was that he didn’t deserve to be cared for the way Remus cared for him, but he knew what Remus would say about that, so he dismissed the thought. He could never do enough good to deserve Remus and Remus had chosen him anyway. What a lucky son of a bitch he was.

Instead of letting himself get overcome with the swell of emotion that Remus had opened up with his choice of music, Sirius buried his face into Remus’ neck again. He pressed long, open kisses to Remus’ jaw, to his throat, working his way down.

“We didn’t define the limits for Gold.” Remus’ voice seemed cautionary, as if reminding Sirius of what the work of his mouth could instigate. The smile on Sirius’ lips, pressed loosely to Remus’ skin, echoed out as a hum at the scar just below them and Sirius nearly lost himself to the way Remus responded to it, his back arched, a whine in the hollows of his throat.

“We don’t have to,” Sirius replied, all caution and concern spilling from him, leaving his chest with every moment more that he was with Remus. “There aren’t any.” Whether it was that confession or the way Sirius’ lips moved down his collarbone, that whine in Remus’ throat evolved into a full-chested moan, his head craned back, hair catching in the shingles of the roof.

He composed himself enough to ask, “None? Are you sure?” Sirius’ lips had kissed as much bare skin as they could, but there was a particularly jagged scar that circled around Remus’ shoulder, peeking out from underneath his shirt, and Sirius desperately wanted to reach it. _All_ of it. He quickly realized that he had just unfastened the first button of Remus’ shirt, which meant he could easily push Remus’ shirt off, just a bit, to taste more skin. So, he did. 

He worked Remus’ shirt from one shoulder and Remus arched his back a little to aid Sirius in his mission to expose more of Remus’ skin. Watching Remus move the way he did, looking at Sirius the way he was spurred an electric current down Sirius’ spine that he hadn’t felt in ages. The need it left in Sirius was only fulfilled by Sirius covering Remus’ skin with his open mouth, letting his tongue drift along that ragged scar that encircled Remus’ shoulder.

“I want there to be times when you don’t have to ask,” Sirius admitted, his voice faltering a little as his eyes fell on a scar on Remus’ chest, redder than the rest of them, _wider_ than the rest of them. “I want there to be time when you can just have me. Whatever way you want,” he whispered. _The way I’m having you right now_, he thought, just before replanting his lips right over the top of that vicious scar. A heat to rival hellfire was buried within it, as if there had been so little skin left to heal that the sinew of Remus’ heart was barely veiled from his lips.

With Sirius’ lips over that scar, his tongue dipping down into the indention it left in Remus’ skin, Remus _came apart_ underneath him, writhing with need. A desperate, howling groan started low in Remus’ chest, vibrating Sirius’ lips, and it grew as it poured from his mouth, while Remus’ fingers on Sirius’ waist curled sharply into Sirius’ bare skin. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he growled through clenched teeth. Maybe it was the fact that Sirius was controlling, _causing_ this, maybe it was simply the fact that it was _Remus_ underneath him, maybe it was Sirius’ blood-alcohol content. But that response lit something in Sirius that had been cinder since the day Ethan Carlisle had called him into his office. Suddenly, he wanted to do things to Remus that he hadn’t wanted to do for a very long time. A _lot_ of things.

Just as Sirius let his fingers slip down to the next button of Remus’ shirt, let his lips slide down a little closer to Remus’ ribs, Remus held him steady. “Oh, God, I really hate to do this, but I’ve got to stop. Like, _now_.” His hand jerked out from underneath Sirius’ shirt like he was pulling away from the snapping teeth of a wild animal. Sirius stopped sharply, pulling away.

“What?” He hoped his tone wasn’t as accusatory as it sounded. “What happened?” With a shaking grip, Remus pulled the headphones from both their ears and shoved everything back into his front pocket. Sirius may have noticed a slight, awkward shift of Remus’ hips.

“I’ve had way too much to drink tonight and I’m not …” he paused, looking Sirius up and down, “… and you’re _really_ …” he stopped again, baring his teeth. “I can’t talk myself _down_.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Sirius said with a forceful exhale, but he was confused. He didn’t _want_ Remus to talk himself down. He’d done all this specifically to rile Remus _up_. Sirius’ eyes traveled to Remus’ lips, wet and worried, and Sirius desperately wanted to kiss him again.

“And I really don’t want to do something to fuck this up, because I’m drunk as shit.”

Sirius stifled a bitter laugh through his nostrils. Sure, he didn’t know Remus well enough to know what drunk Remus was like, but he’d been on the receiving end of a groping drunk before, and it was nothing like this. Remus was letting Sirius go as far as he wanted, but not forcing him to go any further. Remus had asked _permission_ to touch him, for fuck’s sake.

“No, you’re not –” he started to argue, but Remus interrupted.

“Jesus, you’re _such_ a good kisser,” he moaned, throwing his hand over his eyes but peering at Sirius through his fingers, biting down on his reddened lip.

Sirius smiled. “Yeah?” Again, Remus reached out to push Sirius’ thick, wavy hair behind his ear, his fingers brushing against Sirius’ jaw on their way back down.

“And I like you _so_ much,” he sighed and Sirius’ eyes widened. Maybe he _was_ a little drunk, to be this truthful, but _God_ , was that nice to hear. Appearing frustrated, Remus let the back of hand fall across his forehead, his eyes closing tightly. “But you’re too soft and too _pretty_ , for Christ’s sake,” his words slurred just a bit and Sirius smiled. _So are you, Moony_.

Remus continued. “And I’m really drunk, and I _want_ you. W _ay_ too much.” His voice dipped into that growl again as he opened one eye to look at Sirius. It sent a sharp jolt through Sirius’ chest. “So, if I don’t get away from you, if I don’t stop _now_ , then I might forget to –” To quiet him, Sirius place a finger over Remus’ lips, and Remus immediately moved them against Sirius’ touch, his hand ghosting up Sirius’ wrist. His eyes drifted closed as he continued to _taste_ Sirius’ fingertip. Oh, God. Maybe he was right. This could get out of hand rather fast.

“You’re not the only one, Moony,” Sirius breathed out, envious of the way Remus kissed his forefinger, so he quickly replaced it with his lips. Their lips weren’t together long.

“Not the only one, wh–” Remus started to ask, so Sirius explained. 

“Not the only one who’s had too much to drink. And definitely not the only one who’s getting too … involved,” he said under a deep breath as he considered picking up where they left off, his fingers tucking under the next button of Remus’ shirt before he instructed them.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Remus clenched his jaw. “Are you … Did I …” Sirius couldn’t help but laugh. He could tear off every _thread_ of Remus’ clothes with his teeth and Remus would still think he was pushing himself on Sirius. What a vast and welcome change. Still, he _was_ right. They were too drunk for this. Sirius couldn’t be sure that, once he sobered up, he wouldn’t regret taking this step with Remus so soon, no matter how much he wanted it at the moment.

“You’re noble to a fault, you know,” he sighed a little, lying flat on his back and realizing, too late, that he was _noticeably_ stimulated, swelling tight underneath his zipper. Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t just spelled it out for Remus, anyway. “I kissed _you_ , Moony.”

“You didn’t ask for tongue,” he argued, popping a cigarette in between his teeth. With his voice still deep with the residue of a moan, his shirt still spread open, and the mumbled way he spoke through the cigarette in his teeth, the way he said the word _tongue_ sounded filthy.

“If you want me to behave, you can’t say shit like that.” He untied his hair and pushed it from his face, watching Remus light his smoke from under a dark, risen brow.

“Then you can’t look at me like that, either,” he quipped, sucking in a deep, anxious breath that he made look so _good_ that Sirius needed to taste it for himself. Quickly, he snatched the cigarette from Remus’ teeth and put it to his own, the paper still wet from Remus’ lips.

“You’d better get used to it,” Sirius said, in between the inhale and exhale of smoke. “I have a feeling I’ll be looking at you like this a lot more often.” Observing the way Remus licked his lips when he watched Sirius smoke gave Sirius a devilish idea. Before he could talk himself out of it, he took one, long drag on the cigarette before pushing his mouth to Remus’, blowing all the smoke in his lungs down Remus’ throat, buried in a turbulent kiss.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Remus moaned, his eyes fluttering closed as the remnants of smoke from Sirius’ lungs poured from Remus’ lips. He opened one eye, laughing pitifully. “I have to get away from you,” he said, but didn’t make a single movement, so Sirius kissed him again.

“Just a few more,” he spoke into Remus’ mouth, between kisses.

“No, I …” he stared to argue, but craned up to roughly capture Sirius’ lips again. “I’m going to …” His argument was drowned by Sirius’ tongue, delving deep into Remus’ mouth, slipping deftly against Remus’ tongue. When Remus curled his hand around Sirius’ throat, just underneath his jaw, the _want_ that had been dormant in Sirius came roaring back to life with a vengeance, and he couldn’t kiss Remus deeply enough, couldn’t taste him clearly enough, couldn’t feel him closely enough. He compensated by opening Remus’ mouth wider with his own, driving his tongue into corners of Remus’ mouth that he hadn’t explored yet.

Like Sirius’ tongue, Remus’ hand explored, too, venturing around to the back of Sirius’ neck, spreading up into Sirius’ hair. The further down Remus’ throat Sirius worked his tongue, the further into Sirius’ hair Remus worked his fingers, until he had worked them into a delicate knot, holding a fistful of Sirius’ hair, but only _just_ holding. At first. But Sirius let himself get carried away, and Remus followed, tightening his grip in Sirius’ hair, pulling carefully, but tightly enough to tense Sirius’ neck back. As his neck bared, Remus took control of the kiss, moving his tongue into Sirius’ mouth, stroking Sirius’ tongue proficiently, breathing hard into Sirius’ mouth.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Remus,” Sirius breathed out shamelessly and without thought. It was like a switch was turned in Remus and he went feral, forgetting things like rules and colours and permission. He pulled at Sirius’ bottom lip with his teeth as his hand slipped up the front of Sirius’ shirt, fingers gripping tightly onto the bottom of Sirius’ ribcage to pull Sirius closer to him, so close that Sirius could feel himself pressed hard to Remus’ thigh.

It wasn’t just _one_ thing that led Sirius to take in that shaking, nervous breath and tense away from Remus. It wasn’t _just_ Remus’ hand, unannounced on his skin. It wasn’t just the unexpected contact of his erect skin to another person, even if there were layers of fabric in between. It wasn’t just the sharp, biting way that Remus kissed him. And it wasn’t even that any of those things were unwanted. But he recoiled, all the same, whether he wanted to or not.

“Shit,” Remus half-shouted, immediately ripping himself away from Sirius. “ _Shit_ ,” he repeated, louder, as he scrambled to get as far away from Sirius as possible, despite how frantically Sirius was groping to get him back.

“Moony, it’s alright.” Sirius was talking rapidly, panicked at the sudden loss of the warmth of Remus. “It’s my fault.” _Please come back, please come back, please come back._

“I knew I was going to fuck this up, Pads.” There was a whine in Remus’ voice that Sirius didn’t like. He pulled his knees to his chest, folding his hands over the back of his neck. Carefully, Sirius scooted over, siding up next to Remus and placing one hand on his back.

“It wasn’t …” he sighed. “It was instinct. I’m wired to retract.” When Remus looked up, Sirius slipped his hand against Remus’ face. “I was getting just as carried away as you were.” His thumb went automatically to Remus’ lips. “And you could … _tell_ ,” he said, wondering if he had purposefully given Remus a glimpse of how aroused he’d gotten. “So, you responded the way a normal fucking person would respond. It’s not your fault I’m _not_ normal.”

“You’re just as normal as I am,” Remus smiled weakly, and Sirius couldn’t have been more relieved to see it. Placing the cigarette back in his teeth, he stood as Remus continued. “I have to get off this roof. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so …” Sirius finished the thought for him.

“Unhinged?” he swallowed, meeting Remus’ gaze. “Because that’s how I feel.”

“Right,” Remus responded with what sounded like a laugh. “Stark raving.”

“God, we do need to get off this roof,” Sirius joined in his laugh, holding out his hands to pull Remus up with him, and Remus kept his hand in Sirius’ once he was standing.

“Especially if you keep –” He stopped abruptly, looking over at Sirius, who was hanging on the thought that Remus had left unsaid, eyebrow high on his forehead.

“Oh,” Sirius pulled Remus in close. “Please tell me what it is that makes you crazy, Moons.” He slipped the cigarette out from his lips again. “I may need this in the future.” With Remus’ throat right at his face, Sirius only had to tilt his head to put his lips on it again.

Remus let out a long, heavy breath. “The way you say _fuck_ is obscene.” He let his head fall back, allowing Sirius at the entire expanse of his throat and Sirius took it, overlapping wet kisses over Remus’ Adam’s apple, down to the nape of his neck. 

“I learned it from you.” Sirius bit down softly on Remus’ collarbone, sucking in carefully and secretly hoping that there might be a lavender bruise left behind.

“Pads, please, _God_ ,” Remus moaned, disagreement in word but certainly not in action, as he craned his neck to let Sirius keep kissing. Just as Sirius started to settle back in, fitting himself back against Remus’ body, moving his mouth up Remus’ throat, Remus took him by both shoulders and stepped back, holding him away. “If you kiss me one more time, I’ll come apart.”

Sirius arched a brow. “I’m rather interested in watching that happen.” For effect, he ran his tongue along his teeth, biting down when it reached his canines, and Remus watched devotedly. His eyebrow even rose to match Sirius’.

“Oh, you will,” he said, a curious grin covering his lips as he turned. “Eventually.” Sirius was left to whimper and tug pathetically at the shirt hanging from Remus’ shoulder. As Remus leapt over the railing back onto the balcony, he stopped cold. Sirius followed his gaze to see that James and Peter were standing right in front of Remus, who had his shirt only half-on and, to Sirius’ delight, a deepening purple love mark displayed prominently over his collarbone.

With the widest, most arrogant grin he could muster, Sirius leaned over the railing to smile at James and Peter, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Without saying a word, Sirius replaced the cigarette between his lips and hoisted himself over the railing. He glided over to Remus, pulling his shirt back over his shoulder, making sure to leave it unbuttoned, so that little souvenir he had given Remus was still blatantly visible. With a loving pat to the chest and a wink, he left Remus to deal with the aftermath, turning to smile at James and Peter.

“Gentlemen,” he cocked his head as he walked past them, glancing back to see Remus adjusting his shirt a tad more. From the hallway, he heard Remus address them.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Remus said, and Sirius nearly burst into laughter.

“Oh, like fuck we will!” James shrieked just as Remus turned into the hallway. Sirius gave Remus a subtle nod before bolting away. A laugh bubbled up from Remus’ lips as he chased after Sirius, while James and Peter scrambled down the hallway to catch up.


	5. Tame in Comparison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings definitely apply in this chapter! Descriptions of a withdrawal and some very bad things that happen in a dream (but some very good things happen in not a dream!)

**_ Remus  _ **

There was very little explaining to do once James and Peter caught and captured them both. After all, with Remus’ shirt half-unbuttoned and a very prominent display of Sirius’ affection sprawled across Remus’ throat, the explanation was self-evident. Even Lily had gotten an up-close look at the mark of indiscretion on Remus’ skin, Remus blushing all the while.

“Well, that happened faster than I expected,” Lily said quietly, the corners of her mouth turned down in a show of how impressed she was, as James and Sirius went off to the kitchen.

“Oh, not me,” Pete said, through a mouthful of … something. “I mean, just bloody look at him, Lil.” Pete held his hand out toward Remus, who was still blushing. “He’s a _fox_.”

“For fuck’s sake, Pete,” Remus groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Lily laughed, a little louder than she usually did. “He’s not wrong, Remus.” 

“I think we’ve all had too much to drink,” Remus mumbled through his fingers as Lily shifted over on the couch, leaning her head on Remus’ shoulder.

“So, are you … dating? Going steady? What do you kids say these days?” Lily asked, giving Remus a patronizing sort of pat on the knee and a short laugh slipped from his lips.

“I wouldn’t know what the kids say these days. Because I’m the same age as you are and I’m much further removed from current events than you, anyway.” Remus’ speech slurred a tiny bit as he dragged the conversation away from the topic of Sirius for a moment.

“You didn’t answer the question, Moony,” Peter reminded, his mouth full of something different. He was hardly even awake to begin with. Remus needed to take the food away from him before he fell asleep with a throatful of something and choked himself to death.

“Yeah, you didn’t answer the question, Moony,” Lily repeated, blinking slowly.

“I don’t …” Remus started, stopping to let out a sigh. “I don’t _know_. We didn’t really get to that yet.” The more he thought about it, the more he realized, he really wanted to get to that.

“Of course they didn’t, Lily. How do you expect them to have had this conversation already?” Peter mumbled, his mouth finally empty, pressed to the couch. Remus threw out his hands – finally one of them was making a valid point. Until Peter continued, “Bit hard to have a full conversation with the bloke who has his tongue in your mouth.”

“Christ Almighty,” Remus muttered, burying his flushing face again into his hands, and Lily’s head, heavy against his shoulder, fell down into his lap. “I’ll never live this down, will I?”

“Not looking that way,” Lily hummed, eyes staying closed. As Remus let his head fall back against the back of the couch, he realized it felt quite nice to close his eyes. With Sirius still awake, still in the kitchen with James, Remus had wanted to stay awake, too. Eyes half-open, he looked toward the kitchen, stretching out one hand to the arm of the sofa.

“Padfoot,” he called softly, eyelids growing uncomfortably heavy.

Before he could open his eyes again, he felt a familiar pair of lips press softly against his own, and he responded desperately, without considering the implications.

“ _Pads_ ,” he hummed, letting his hand ghost up into Sirius’ hair, with every intention of stopping him, but without the will to do it. After all, Lily and Peter were so close – Lily was lying in Remus’ lap even, which could go _very_ badly. And if Sirius was back, it meant James was, too.

But when Remus opened his eyes, they weren’t in James’ house – they were in Remus’ flat. In Remus’ bedroom. James and Lily and Peter were nowhere in sight. And Sirius wasn’t just kissing him – he was straddling him, over where Remus was lying in his own bed.

“I know, Moony,” Sirius breathed out into Remus’ mouth, and he shifted his hips, pressing hard against Remus as his tongue slipped indelicately through Remus’ teeth.

“Oh, _God_. This is just a dream,” Remus managed to convince himself through the slide of Sirius’ hips against his own and the rhythm of Sirius’ mouth, working its way down his throat.

“It’s a really fucking good dream, then,” Sirius laughed, his breath puffing out hot against Remus’ neck as the work of his mouth spread further. “I think this is Gold.”

“Gold?” Remus repeated breathlessly, leaning his head back to arch deeper into Sirius’ kiss, while Sirius’ fingers worked steadily at the buttons of Remus’ shirt. “Really?”

“Really,” Sirius pulled back to look at him for only a moment before placing his heavy lips into the dip of Remus’ throat, right at the top of his breastbone. As Sirius’ fingers pulled open more buttons, his open mouth followed and, with his lips pressed to the center of Remus’ chest, he looked up through dark lashes. “That means you can touch me, Moony.”

Remus took a breath. “I … I don’t want to make you … are you sure?” Keeping his mouth occupied, Sirius threaded his fingers through Remus’ and brought Remus’ hand to Sirius’ hip, working them both together up the hem of Sirius’ shirt until Remus’ touch met bare skin. Sirius’ eyes met Remus’ and the silver was all but blacked out as he let out a slow breath.

“ _Anywhere_ you want,” Sirius mumbled between pressing a few long, open kisses low on Remus’ stomach before working his way back up to Remus’ throat. “Please, Moony.”

Tentatively, Remus brushed his hand down Sirius’ waist, across Sirius’ stomach, dusting his fingers over the button of Sirius’ jeans, and Sirius took in a very deep breath. It rapidly cooled the warm, wet air underneath Sirius’ mouth, sending a shiver into Remus’ spine.

“You can stop me if I go too far,” Remus managed to say just before Sirius covered Remus’ mouth with his own, sliding his tongue deep inside for a moment.

“Goddammit, I want you to keep going,” Sirius said with a sly laugh before kissing him viciously above a weighted moan, spurring Remus’ movement. Hands trembling, he unfastened Sirius’ dark jeans, sliding the zipper down over the hard impression of Sirius underneath it. He moved slowly, savoring the brush of his fingers against the cotton fabric that kept Sirius’ erect skin from his touch, savoring the indecorous sounds it drew from Sirius’ throat.

“Tell me you want me to go further,” Remus begged, stilling his movement, the need of his hand sending a nervous tremor into his fingertips.

“ _Yes_ ,” Sirius exhaled hard, sliding one hand down Remus’ chest and tucking his fingers just underneath the button of Remus’ jeans, clutching tightly. Remus arched his hips into Sirius’ touch, letting his hand slip into the open barrier of Sirius’ jeans, rolling his palm along the full length of Sirius. In reply, a deep, salacious moan dripped from Sirius’ lips.

“Oh my _God_.” The breath from Remus’ throat staggered out with words he hadn’t intended to say as Sirius fingered the imprint of Remus through his trousers.

“Fuck, Moony, _fuck_ ,” Sirius groaned heavily, straightening up and letting his head fall back as Remus fell into a mindless rhythm of sliding his curled fingers up and down Sirius’ length, still tucked away behind a layer of fabric that Remus desperately wanted to remove.

Remus brought his other hand up to Sirius’ hips, fingering the elastic that was keeping Sirius hidden, and he paused, looking up, waiting for Sirius to look back down at him. When he did, the expression on Sirius’ face wasn’t what Remus expected. The absent pleasure on Sirius’ face was removed, replaced by something that looked a lot like terror. Immediately, Remus ripped his hands away from Sirius’ skin, afraid that he was the cause of this abrupt change.

Sirius whispered Remus’ name, “ _Moony_ ,” voice wavering strongly, lip quivering.

“What happened?” Remus shifted out from underneath Sirius’ legs, sitting up. His automatic reaction was to touch Sirius, to hold him by the shoulders, but when he did, Sirius retracted violently, throwing his hands over his head in defense.

“Moony, help me,” Sirius whispered. His unsteady voice seemed so far away.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus gasped sharply as he woke, lurching forward from where he had fallen asleep on the couch, with Lily in his lap. His jarring awakening woke Lily just the same, and she grumbled as he moved her, rather unceremoniously, onto the cushions underneath her. 

On a large pile of blankets on the floor in front of the sofa, Sirius and James slept, back to back, with Sirius facing Remus. Still shaking, Remus knelt in front of him. Even in the dark, Remus could see the pained expression on Sirius’ face, teeth clenched to the point of breaking, sweat rolling down his temples. Remus wondered if the heat was radiating from Sirius or from himself.

“No, no, no,” Sirius mumbled softly in his sleep, beginning to twitch, as if struggling to get away from something. Remus held his hands out, wanting to shake Sirius awake, but not wanting to touch him in this state. “No, stop,” Sirius grew louder. “Remus. No, please.” Remus’ eyes widened, curling his fingers into fists, still held out in front of Sirius. Had his activity with Sirius earlier in the evening spurred this nightmare? Worse still, was Remus the _villain_ in this dream? 

He had to stop it. The only way he knew was to break Sirius from it physically. With a nervous clench in his jaw, he held Sirius’ shoulders and shook him carefully, trying to talk to him as gently as possible, trying to remind Sirius that Remus was on his side.

“Padfoot, please wake up,” Remus begged in a soft voice. Sirius’ eyes flew open, but they were blank – he wasn’t looking at Remus. He wasn’t looking at _anything_. When he began to struggle against Remus’ slight hold on him, Remus jerked his hands away, but Sirius continued to fight, waking James abruptly from where he slept against Sirius’ back. James met Remus’ gaze.

“What’s happened?” he asked, panic in his voice as he sat up quickly. By this time, Lily and Peter has also been woken by Sirius’ thrashing and they huddled around Remus.

“He’s having a nightmare,” Remus replied, voice unstable, as Sirius collapsed again.

“ _Remus_ ,” Sirius groaned, eyes fluttering closed as he clutched at the collar of his shirt, pulling it as far from his throat as it would stretch. The threads popped as it began to tear.

“I’m here,” Remus said, instinctively taking Sirius’ hand. As he realized what he had done, he started to pull away, but Sirius’ grip tightened significantly.

“He’s lying, Moony, don’t listen to him,” Sirius swallowed, his breathing catching for a moment before he began to pant, his breaths shallow and rapid. “I don’t want this.”

“What’s he talking about?” Lily asked, worry in her tone. The desperate way Sirius spoke, Remus was afraid he knew what this nightmare was. He needed to get Sirius out of this.

“Wake up, Sirius, please,” Remus begged softly, shaking him again.

“No, don’t take him from me,” Sirius responded, his voice wailing urgently. For a moment, James caught Remus’ gaze and they shared an expression.

“He was acting strange last night, after the rest of you fell asleep,” James replied, his shoulders sagging as he watched Sirius grimace in pain. The look on his face was dark. “He said it was just the hangover setting in early, said his head hurt. He almost threw up in the sink.”

“Is he sick?” Lily asked. “He’s absolutely drenched in sweat.”

After a deep, but unsteady breath, James swallowed hard, looking over the tops of his glasses at Remus. Words tumbled out with breath, in a tone that was anxious and terrified.

“Please tell me this isn’t an overdose.” His eyes were wide in the dark. The group went silent. The breath fell from Remus’ lips as he closed his eyes tightly, praying to a deity he didn’t believe in, Sirius’ hand still trembling within his own. No. Sirius wouldn’t have.

“I didn’t see him take anything, he couldn’t …” Remus trailed off. There was a very large expanse of time that Remus wasn’t with Sirius. He only knew that Sirius had been with Marlene, and who _knows_ what Marlene had been supplying him. Remus glanced over at Lily.

“I’ll call Marlene,” Lily said immediately, running off to find her mobile – Remus could hear her swearing from across the room, unable to reach Marlene. She tried again.

“He’s still breathing,” Pete said, mobile in hand. “Check his pupils.” Carefully, James pried open one of Sirius’ eyes. A thin ring of silver gave them an answer.

“They look normal,” James shook his head. “What are we looking for?”

“Google says he would have pinpoint pupils if it was an opioid overdose,” Pete said, and Remus could hear the tones of Peter dialing a number into his mobile. “What does he take?” 

“I don’t know. I think it’s for anxiety,” Remus mumbled, placing his lips to Sirius’ thumb.

“Pete, you dialed for an ambulance?” James asked. Peter nodded. “Don’t call just yet.”

“Sirius, can you hear me?” Remus asked, leaning in close, holding Sirius’ shaking hand close to his face. Sirius let out a long breath, rolling his head over toward Remus.

“ _Moony_. You’re alright,” he breathed out. It sounded like a sigh of relief.

“I’m alright, but I need you to tell me what you took,” Remus said. The air in his throat felt like it was coming out in waves, catching his words and chopping them apart. 

“It was for Regulus. Everything I did was to protect Regulus,” Sirius stumbled over his words as they became more insistent, his eyes moving erratically underneath his eyelids. A crease in his brow, Remus looked up at James for answers, but James shook his head.

“Who’s Regulus?” James asked, still looking at Remus, but Sirius didn’t answer it.

“Prongs?” Sirius redirected. “I never should’ve said those things to you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His voice was strained, an unsteady clench sent into his jaw, and Remus immediately steadied his gaze on James, still searching for answers. This time, James nodded.

“It’s okay, Pads,” James said, giving Remus a particular look to communicate that he would explain it all later. “We already fixed that.” Sirius’ body went lax against Remus.

“Sirius, please. Did you take anything today?” Remus asked again, insistently.

“Marlene doesn’t have what I need. I’ve been out for days,” he spoke through an exhale, breath injected into each syllable. “I can’t sleep without it. I’m so tired, Moony.” It seemed like he tried to open his eyes, but they rolled back as the tension in his muscles gave out.

“You have to stay awake for a little longer, love,” Remus said, forgetting barriers that kept him from using terms of affection, forgetting about everyone else who was listening, as he curled his fingers around the sharp edge of Sirius’ jaw, trailing his fingers along it. Sirius leaned in.

“Valium, Remus,” Lily called from across the room, her mobile to her ear. “He gets Valium from Marlene and she hasn’t had any to give him.” She went back to the mobile.

“Pete,” James commanded, and Pete nodded, tapping away at his mobile screen.

“Signs of withdrawal, tremors, sweating, headache, nausea,” Pete listed off, his face lit white and blue from the illuminated screen. He looked up, expression solemn. “I think this is it, Remus.” Remus’ grip on Sirius’ hand tightened. God, he was going through _withdrawals_.

Lily called back. “She gave him a couple Klonopin, he put them in the front pocket of his trousers. She said if he didn’t take them, see if you can get him to take one now.” Quickly, Remus patted down Sirius’ hips, finding the tablets. Though Sirius squirmed a bit at the sudden contact to his thigh, Remus slipped his hand into Sirius’ pocket and retrieved two small, yellow tablets.

“Sirius, are you still with me?” Remus asked and Sirius nodded, slightly.

“I _have_ to stay with you, Moony. You keep Ethan away,” he mumbled, and Remus’ grit his teeth hard, hearing the name of Sirius’ abuser for the first time. James looked over, concerned, for only a moment before he raced off to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water.

“Can you do something for me?” Remus asked, moving his hand to the back of Sirius’ neck to hold his head up as much as he could. “I need you to take this tablet.”

“Is it from Marlene?” Sirius asked softly, letting out a sigh. “The Valium keeps him away, too.” Sirius’ lips parted and Remus slipped the drug in between his teeth, helping Sirius take a long sip of water to wash it down. Once he swallowed, his body jerked brutally, flinging him into Remus’ lap and Remus could feel the strain melt from him every time the tremors stopped. 

“It isn’t Valium,” Remus admitted, running his fingers softly through Sirius’ hair as another wave of contraction sent an arch into Sirius’ spine. “Next best thing.”

“Next best thing is just _you_ , Moony,” Sirius breathed out, lips barely forming words through his quivering. “Maybe better. You certainly _taste_ much better,” Sirius grinned weakly and, immediately, a violent blush spread across Remus’ cheeks. James tried his best to stifle a smirk, but it was a very poor attempt. Peter pretended he hadn’t heard.

“We’re in mixed company here, Pads,” Remus smiled sheepishly.

“It’s not like it’s a secret,” he said, finally opening his eyes, his grin strengthening for a moment under a cocky, sharply raised brow as his gaze found Remus’ in an instant.

The colour of his eyes was alarmingly blank, ashen and unfocused, and Remus felt a sharp sense of loss, aching for that familiar, kinetic mercury that he usually found in them. As he looked at Sirius, he tried to keep the burden from his expression, tried to keep his lip from trembling, tried to swallow down the mass of confession he felt building in his throat.

Before Remus could say anything, the comfortingly arrogant grin on Sirius’ face dissolved into a groan, stifled through clenched teeth, as another tremor coursed through every muscle.

“Does this next best thing work the same?” Sirius asked in a whisper, screwing his eyes closed tight, his face contorted in pain as he twitched away from Remus for a moment.

Remus took a breath. “I hope so.” Sirius let his head fall back into Remus’ lap again, his weight against Remus increased as his body went limp, like there was no energy left behind.

“Whatever he told you before, don’t believe it. It isn’t true,” he stammered, becoming incoherent. “Please don’t leave me,” he finally said, eyes fluttering behind closed eyelids.

“I’m not leaving,” Remus promised, squeezing Sirius’ hand and leaning in to place his forehead to Sirius’, still slick with a cold sweat. His tired smile returned, the tremble lessened.

In a small voice, Sirius whispered, “You know, I think I might like to fall in love with you, Moony.” With a smile of his own, Remus pulled back to look at him, brushing the damp hair from his forehead and settling his lips in its place. He kept them there, breathing Sirius in, grateful that he had stopped shaking, grateful that Sirius wasn’t alone for this. Grateful that Sirius was _alive_.

In hushed tones, he mumbled into Sirius’ skin, “I may have already beaten you to it.”

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

James was trying so hard to embarrass Sirius about how disheveled he had gotten Remus on the roof, but it was wasted effort. For starters, Sirius was drunk enough to absolutely not give a shit about discretion. He was unbothered by the fact that everyone had seen a mark of _his_ mouth on Remus’ skin. Skin that should have been hidden. It wasn’t like James didn’t already know the way Sirius felt about Remus. This was just the physical evidence of it.

More importantly – and maybe it had to do with the alcohol, maybe it didn’t – Sirius was fucking _proud_ of that mark on Remus’ throat. Only a few days before, he couldn’t barely even carry on conversations with other people, much less be touched by them, much less be _kissed_ by them. But somehow, Remus Lupin managed to make Sirius feel so unequivocally _safe_ that he wasn’t afraid to be touched, to be kissed, to be wanted. He’d forgotten how nice it felt.

“I have to say, Pads,” James said as the two of them escaped into the kitchen. Sirius let himself cast a glance back at Remus, groaning loudly and burying his blushing face into his hands at the questions Lily and Pete were pelting him with. “This was the last thing I expected."

Sirius smirked. “What, Moony snogged within an inch of indecency?”

“Yeah,” James laughed, eyebrows raising. “Or for you to be so calm about it.” Warily, he shifted his gaze over to Sirius, watching him decidedly. “Just yesterday, you bolted out of here because he brushed against you wrong and today, you …” James trailed off, obviously trying to think of the most delicate way to phrase it, but Sirius didn’t need delicate just then.

“Brushed against _him_ wrong,” Sirius grinned. “Or right. Hopefully right.” James let out a soft laugh, but it was stilted, short, like he had something else he wanted to say.

“He’s not … I mean, you’re not taking this …” He looked up at Sirius with a worried expression, reflected in the glare of his square-framed glasses. And Sirius knew what he was neglecting to ask. It was a valid point, a fair concern. One that Sirius would deal with _later_.

“Alright, I’m a little drunk,” Sirius admitted with a sigh, feeling the buzz of the liquor wearing off faster than he wanted it to. “You’re right, I probably took it a little … further than I should have.” He let his head fall forward, let his hair cascade down around his face, just to get it off his neck for a moment. Why was it so bloody hot in James’ house?

“Does Moony know that?” James asked, caution in his voice, and Sirius’ first instinct was to snap a biting response back at him. He tried to hold it back, but it barreled out, anyway.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” James looked surprised.

“I just want to make sure that you and Moony are on the same page about this,” James said defensively, holding his hands out in front of him. Sirius gritted his teeth. He needed another drink. The alcohol in his blood was breaking down. He could feel the stress building in his veins.

“Why does it matter to you?” Sirius barked, but he lowered his tone with each word that passed through his teeth. He didn’t want Remus to hear him. He didn’t want Remus to know.

“I love you both,” James said, keeping his voice low and soft. “I don’t want to lose either of you just because things moved a little too fast.” A snarl immediately went into Sirius’ lip. What did James know about any of this? Did he understand what it was like to be torn apart as a _person_ , left to rebuild yourself all over again and left to do it alone? Did he know what it was like to finally find someone who was willing to help you learn how to be _human_ again?

Taking a breath, Sirius realized that _no_ , James didn’t understand any of what Sirius and Remus had gone through, what they were going through together. He _couldn’t_ understand. He never would. But James loved them both, anyway. Why was Sirius getting so agitated over this?

“Prongs, I’m sorry.” Sirius let out a long, loud breath, burying his face in his hands and doubling over, letting the kitchen counter behind him hold him up.

“No, _I’m_ sorry. I know it’s not any of my business,” James said as Sirius straightened back out, letting his head fall back. Again, he pulled at his hair – it was damp against the back of his neck. James continued. “But Moony would do _anything_ for you, and I just …”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at James. “Moony is the one who stopped _me_ , Prongs.”

“Wait, no,” James brought his hand to his forehead for a moment. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not saying that I think Remus is going to cross some sort of line or –”

“There _is_ no line, James,” Sirius bit back. “And if there is, _Remus_ put it there.” James crumpled in on himself, like he knew he was saying all the wrong things. _Wasn’t_ he? Was he trying to convince Sirius to stay away from Remus? What was the _point_ of this conversation?

“Pads, I know that. I _know_ Remus. I know he would never do anything that you didn’t want him to do,” James insisted, clenching his fists at his sides, bringing one of them to his lips.

“Then what _are_ you trying to say?” Sirius hissed through tightly clenched teeth. “That I’m leading him on? That I’m going to convince Remus to sleep with me so I can blame _him_ for it?”

“ _No_!” James practically shouted, starting to reach out to take Sirius by the shoulders, but Sirius jerked back. “ _Fuck_. No. Why would you … just listen to me for one fucking second.”

Sirius threw his hands into the air. “I’m listening.” James took a deep breath.

“I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place, I know that,” James groaned, letting out the deep breath he had taken in through pressed teeth. “If you’re happy, and Moony is happy, then I’m fucking happy. I don’t give a shit about anything else.” The ends of his words fell off into a loud groan as he pushed his glasses up, pinching at the bridge of his nose and sniffling.

As he watched James suffer silently, Sirius began to wonder why they had been fighting in the first place. Why had Sirius gotten so irritated with James just now? There wasn’t a single thing that James had just said that Sirius hadn’t twisted around into something _else_. James wasn’t the one being unreasonable – it was Sirius. Why was he taking this so personally?

“ _Shit_ ,” Sirius breathed out, covering his eyes with one hand. “Let’s forget this happened. I guess I’m sobering up a hell of a lot faster than I wanted to.” He tried to laugh, but the sudden change in his expression sent a sharp, stinging pain into his head. He winced, even.

“So, you’re not mad at me?” James asked, looking over the tops of his glasses with wide eyes, bright with brown and green, practically batting his lashes at Sirius.

Sirius sighed, smiling softly. “Let me see if I can translate what you’re trying to say, because either you’re really shit at saying it right or I’m really shit at hearing it right.” James’ shoulder sagged, but he nodded. “You don’t want Moony to expect love and affection if he’s not going to get it. And you don’t want _me_ to be expected to give it when I’m not ready to.” James threw his head back, arms out to his sides, and he let out a prolonged breath.

“ _Yes_ , thank you, that’s it,” he growled, gutturally, like he was in agony. Sirius reached out and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder to let him know they were all alright and James looked surprised at the contact, given the last few minutes of conversation between them.

“You were right, you shouldn’t have said anything,” Sirius smiled smugly.

“I _knooow_ ,” James groaned, stretching out his vowels pathetically.

“Because we’ve already worked it out, Prongs,” Sirius assured him, and James furrowed his eyebrows in Sirius’ direction. “We’ve got a whole system and everything.”

“Like a safe word?” James asked with a curious smile.

“A _little_ like a safe word,” Sirius half-shrugged, still smiling. But the movement of his shoulders sent another wave of pain into his head. This time, the pain radiated, down into his stomach and he rushed over to the sink, on the verge of losing his liquor.

“Pads?” James asked, a significant amount of concern in his voice as he placed his hand uncertainly onto the middle of Sirius’ back. Sirius let his hand stay, but why was it was _so_ _hot_?

“Don’t tell me I’ve got a hangover already, I’m still half-drunk,” Sirius joked, but the room had started to spin the longer he kept his eyes open. He just needed to lie down. “This headache is a son of a bitch, Prongs. Are my eyes hanging out of my skull? It feels like they are.”

“Come on, let’s go sleep it off.” James tucked himself up underneath Sirius’ arm and helped him into the living room. Lily had already set up a stack of blankets on the floor for any of them to fall asleep on. They passed Remus, asleep on the sofa, with Lily asleep on his knee.

“I didn’t know sleeping in Remus’ lap was an option, can we switch?” Sirius pointed to Lily, trying to laugh but only resulting in a pained breath slipping from his lips.

“Then you _really_ won’t get any sleep,” James laughed, letting Sirius drift away from him as he went to bury himself underneath a pile of blankets, even though it was still so warm. How was he the only one noticing this? He was practically sweating through his clothes.

Remus’ arm was draped across the sofa, as if he had been reaching for something just as he fell asleep. Carefully, Sirius wrapped Remus’ hand within his own, placing his lips softly against the bruises on Remus’ knuckles that were just beginning to bloom their true colour.

“Goodnight, Moony,” he mumbled into Remus’ fingers before collapsing next to James.

It was a dream. He _knew_ it was a dream. That was the frustrating part. Because this one wasn’t like all his other dreams. It was unusual, because Sirius had specifically _not_ taken the pills that Marlene had given him, not after all the alcohol he drank. He knew from experience that those types of drugs plus alcohol meant he would be borderline unconscious, and he had wanted to spend as much time with Remus as he could, so he hadn’t taken anything.

Since he hadn’t taken those pills, he’d expected a dream. He expected his typical dream, an _off-my-meds_ dream. Dreams like the one where Ethan Carlisle was the Prime Minister and he had ordered the imprisonment of Regulus, for a crime that _Sirius_ had been forced to commit against his will. Or the one where Ethan Carlisle was an axe murderer and he hunted Sirius down, but killed Regulus by mistake. They all had the same general theme. They were predictable.

This dream was not like those dreams. In this dream, Sirius was in his bedroom at his parent’s house. In itself, that was not unusual – sometimes his regular nightmares happened here. Sometimes Carlisle would bound and gag him, and Sirius would try to call for his mother, but she would just scream at him from the other side of the door, telling him to shut up.

At first, he expected _that_. He braced himself to watch Carlisle walk in through his bedroom door and slowly lock it behind him. But it never happened. Sirius began to wonder if everything _else_ had been a dream. Maybe he was still in secondary school, he still lived at home, he had never met Ethan Carlisle. That would be fine, except it also meant he’d never met Marlene or James or Peter or Lily or … he started to panic. That is, until Remus Lupin crawled in through his open bedroom window, breathless and smiling. Oh, this was better than he thought.

“Lock the door,” he grinned, raising his eyebrow while Sirius stared, confused. “Your mother saw me climb up, no doubt she’s on her way.” Quickly, Sirius raced over to his bedroom door, turning the bolt just as the doorknob began to shake underneath his fingers.

“Sirius Orion Black, you open this door right now!” his mother shrieked from the hallway and the door rattled and creaked, but it stayed locked. Sirius looked back to Remus.

“I missed you,” Remus breathed out quickly before grabbing a fistful of Sirius’ shirt and pulling him close, kissing him deeply the moment the distance was broken. Sirius didn’t feel that familiar prickling sensation that made him shrink away from touch. That was when it all clicked.

“This _is_ just a dream,” he spoke into Remus’ mouth and, while he was elated to be having a dream _this_ good, he was ever so slightly disappointed it wasn’t happening while he was awake.

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be a really fucking good one,” Remus laughed, biting down softly onto Sirius’ bottom lip, walking him backward until Sirius was pressed to his bedroom door. It was still shaking with his mother’s attempts to get inside and throw Remus back out the window.

“You had better get that boy out of your room immediately, you filthy, little slag,” his mother hissed through the cracks in the door and Sirius winced at her wording. As he looked at Remus, there was only euphoric mischief in the expression given back to him.

“Oh, let’s just _ruin_ her day, shall we?” he smiled sweetly, sliding his hands up Sirius’ thighs before lifting Sirius from his feet and pinning him to the door with his hips.

“ _Moony_ ,” Sirius exhaled sharply, the heavy breath that followed cut off by Remus’ mouth closing voraciously over his, by Remus’ tongue sliding deep into Sirius’ mouth. As Sirius slipped slightly down from his place against the door, Remus shifted his hips in, and Sirius could feel every pulsing inch of Remus pressed flush against him. “ _Fuck_ ,” he let a moan slip through pursed lips, despite how he tried to stay quiet, as he knew his mother was listening.

“Louder,” Remus growled into his mouth, moving his lips away from Sirius’ for only a moment, just long enough to rip Sirius’ shirt over his head. The typical reaction that Sirius would have had if he had been awake was entirely absent – no violent terror at the sudden exposure of his skin, no lurching of his stomach at someone else being in control. “Let her _hear_ you.”

It was just the opposite, in fact. This brash version of Remus coupled with the welcome disappearance of his ever-present anxiety stirred something untamed in Sirius, and he suddenly wanted to do anything Remus asked of him. He wished it could be this way once he woke.

“ _Fuck_ , Moony,” Sirius moaned loudly, head turned to the door. The pressure of Remus’ mouth on his throat increased in response, the weight of his hips bore down hard against Sirius’.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Remus hissed, taking Sirius’ skin between his teeth and sucking hard, giving Sirius a mark to match his own. “The way you say fuck is _obscene_.” Sirius placed his lips to Remus’ ear.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed out, heavy and slow, hanging on every syllable, and Remus’ grip on Sirius’ waist tightened, fingernails digging into skin. And it _hurt_. It hurt, and Sirius didn’t feel that wave of panic at the pain, or the touch, or the implication of what would come. It hurt and Sirius _loved_ it. It hurt and Sirius wanted it to hurt more, to hurt harder.

When Remus placed Sirius’ feet back onto the hardwood and knelt before him, watching him with gilded eyes through dark, heavy lashes, Sirius felt nothing but need. When Remus moved his lips down the soft skin of Sirius’ stomach, fingers nimbly working apart the button of Sirius’ jeans, Sirius could only beg him _not_ to stop. When Remus leaned in, mouthing at the impression of Sirius through thin fabric, Sirius called out his name, buried in a cursing moan.

“Oh, God, Moony, _fuck_ ,” Sirius said, aching, as he threw his head back against the door, only vaguely aware of the threats his mother was making on the other side. Remus sat back on his heels, smiling up at Sirius, watching him come undone as he tightly fingered Sirius’ imprint.

“Does she realize, the more she insults you with those slurs … it only makes me want to suck you off _more_?” Remus grinned wide, eyebrow raised, as he placed both hands onto Sirius’ hips, tucking his fingers into the waist of Sirius’ boxers, rewarded with more and more bare skin.

“Oh _my_ _God_ , Remus,” Sirius moaned, voice trembling as Remus placed his lips into the dip just underneath Sirius’ bare hipbone, slowly, _agonizingly_ working his mouth down.

A frighteningly powerful blow against the door pitched Sirius forward against his will, and Remus steadied him, his task averted. When Remus’ eyes darted up to meet Sirius’ gaze, a sickeningly familiar voice spoke up from the other side of the door, quiet, but not at all soft.

“You wouldn’t _dare_ be unfaithful, would you?” Sirius’ eyes widened, tears flooding them instantly. In Remus’ confusion and shock, he stood, pulling Sirius into his arms as the door swung open slowly, as if it had never even been locked in the first place.

The face of his nightmares stood just outside the door. His mother’s arm was wrapped tightly around Carlisle’s bicep, her black fingernails digging into his expensive red, corduroy jacket, the bright emerald of her ring glinting in the dusty line of sunlight trailing out from Sirius’ room. The look on their faces did not match in the least. Carlisle smiled, a stomach-emptying, gut-punching, revolting sort of smile that made Sirius break out in an immediate cold sweat. His mother, on the other hand, scowled as usual, the corners of her mouth sharp and jagged.

“Sirius, who is this?” Remus asked, his grip tightening around Sirius’ waist as Carlisle moved into the room, all but slithering toward them. He removed his jacket, set it on Sirius’ bed.

“Moony,” Sirius tried to tell Remus to go – he didn’t want Remus to see _him_. He didn’t want Remus to see what Carlisle could force him to do. He didn’t want Remus to know. 

“Come now, Sirius, darling,” Carlisle said, his voice thick as he leaned in, trailing a single finger along the curve of Sirius’ jaw, which Remus pulled him away from. With an irritated tightening of his jaw, Carlisle pressed one hand to the side of Remus’ head, wrapping the other around Sirius’ neck and literally pulled them apart, throwing Remus to the floor.

Sirius tried to call out to him, but Carlisle’s grip around his throat intensified as he twisted around Sirius, pressing himself to Sirius’ back. All that came out was a choking, gasping sound as Sirius struggled to breathe. Just as Remus had started to move toward them, Carlisle spoke.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t told him,” Carlisle breathed into Sirius’ ear.

“Moony, help me,” Sirius croaked out in a whisper, trying to cover up Carlisle’s words. Remus couldn’t know this. Sirius couldn’t let him know. He would never look at him again.

“Told me what?” Remus looked back and forth between their faces, worry in his eyes.

“All the things Sirius does for me,” Carlisle’s voice oozed against his skin, his free hand slipping down Sirius’ waist, unsettling Sirius through the still-open waist of his jeans.

“No, no, no,” Sirius mumbled, closing his eyes tightly as angry tears spilled over his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his mother stand there silently. He watched her eyes widen as Carlisle molested her son against his will. He watched her expression grow blank and vapid. He watched her walk from the room without a single glance backward.

“And he _likes_ it, don’t you, doll?” Carlisle slipped his tongue into Sirius’ ear, his hand heavy between Sirius’ legs. The tears burned as they rolled unending down Sirius’ cheeks.

“No, _stop_ ,” he cried in a small voice, a hand still around his throat. “Remus,” he said, finally opening his eyes to look at Remus, expecting to see a look of absolute disgust. That was not at all what he saw on Remus’ face. What he saw was a seething anger, a blinding rage, a murderous intent, directed at the man who was holding Sirius captive in his unwanted grasp.

“Get your hands off him,” Remus growled, launching himself from his place on the floor, shooting forward with his hands outstretched. His fingertips had just barely brushed against Sirius’ face, ready to tear Sirius’ from Carlisle’ grasp, but it vanished. When Sirius looked down, he saw Remus suddenly chained to the floor, black masking tape wrapped over the bottom half of his face, a metal collar around his neck that yanked him back down onto the floor.

“No, please,” Sirius begged, but Carlisle forced Sirius to his knees, hand still around his throat, the other hand winding through Sirius’ hair. He forced Sirius to look at Remus, whose autumn eyes were wide, tears spilling down the bindings that masked his face.

“Remus, is that your name?” Carlisle asked and Remus flicked his eyes up at him, a dark flash of violence surging through his expression. “Sirius’ new plaything.”

“Remus,” Sirius tried to talk over him, tried to tell Remus that he was a pathological liar, tried to tell him of all the stories that Carlisle had told about Sirius over the years – to his mother, to his friends, to the school administration – just to cover up what he was doing to him.

“Did he act as the victim again?” Carlisle laughed. “Did he cry and cry and convince you that he did all those things to me because I forced him to?” He knelt behind Sirius, wrapping his mouth around the back of Sirius’ neck, his hand slithering around Sirius’ hip again.

Helpless, Sirius could do nothing but watch the violent way Remus reacted, thrashing against the chains that held him down, his furious screams drowned by the muzzle over his mouth. His neck burned red from how hard he strained at the metal collar around his throat.

“But he can’t betray his biology,” Carlisle said, his voice draining from his throat like sewage, his hand slinking down between Sirius’ legs again. “It’s obvious what he wants.”

“No, Moony, he’s lying,” Sirius cried, sickened by the manipulation of the want that had been stirred by _Remus_ in the first place. “Don’t listen to him, I don’t _want_ this.” Remus had gone frighteningly still, head dropped forward. When he raised his head, his gaze met Sirius’ quickly, golden eyes glossy with tears, shadowed in anger, wide with helplessness.

Despite the binds holding him back, he leaned forward as far as he could, and Sirius did the same, struggling against Carlisle’s grasp. Just barely, Remus’ forehead rested against his, and Remus let out a muffled breath, almost a whimper. With one, sudden surge, Sirius leapt forward and pressed his lips to Remus’ forehead, loosening one hand to hold Remus’ face tenderly. Another aching sound drew up through Remus’ covered mouth as he leaned into Sirius’ touch.

A vicious jerk from Carlisle’s arms ripped Sirius away from Remus, despite the muted, shouting protests coming from behind the tape that kept Remus’ mouth shut. The movement gave Sirius a glimpse of his bedroom door, where his mother stood just outside.

“Get rid of him,” Carlisle growled, nodding toward Remus. Immediately, his mother seemed to snap to attention, obeying Carlisle’s every whim. She grabbed a vase from outside Sirius’ room and broke it over Remus’ head. As a yell clawed up from Sirius’ throat, Carlisle clamped a hand over his mouth, keeping him silent, forcing him to watch Remus collapse to the floor, unconscious. His mother pulled at the chain around Remus’ throat, heaving him from the room. In his panic, Sirius flailed in Carlisle’s grasp, tearing the hand from over his mouth. 

“No, don’t take him from me!” Sirius screamed frantically, his voice cracking in desperation as he watched Remus being dragged across the hardwood. Carlisle’s meaty hand slammed over Sirius’ mouth again, and over his nose, cutting off his air supply.

“I will take everything you love,” he threatened as Sirius swung his fists wildly, his lungs already burning. The pressure against Sirius’ face increased. “I will take everything you have, until I am the only thing left.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to Sirius’ ear as Sirius’ vision began to fade. “I will ruin your fucking life, Sirius Black.” Sirius slipped out of consciousness.

Voices swirled over Sirius’ head, everything dark. None of them were clear enough that he could hear what they were saying. Only pieces. _He was acting strange. Is he sick? Overdose. Check his pupils. Call Marlene. Dial for an ambulance._ One familiar voice rang suddenly clear.

“Sirius, can you hear me?” His voice was like honey. Like the colour of his eyes.

“Moony,” he breathed out, orienting himself toward Remus’ voice. “You’re alright.” In the back of his mind, he _knew_ Remus was alright. What had just happened to Remus hadn’t _actually_ happened. It was a dream. Remus had never been chained up and gagged.

But it still felt like Carlisle had his hands around Sirius’ neck. There was a grip against his throat, or _within_ his throat, that felt like he would suffocate from it. He tried to take large, gasping breaths, but they came up stunted and short. Instead, he tried focusing on Remus’ voice.

“I’m alright,” Remus assured him. “But I need you to tell me what you took.” There was some sort of fear in Remus’ voice that Sirius had never heard, never wanted to hear. Was he still dreaming? Did Remus remember what Carlisle had said about him? He had to fix this.

“It was for Regulus. Everything I did was to protect Regulus,” he tried to explain, not comprehending that Remus didn’t even know he _had_ a brother, much less his name.

“Who’s Regulus?” Sirius heard to his right. It was James’ voice.

“Prongs,” Sirius said under a sigh, remembering the last conversation they’d had. “I never should have said those things to you, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

James’ voice drifted as he answered. “It’s okay, Pads. We fixed that already.”

“Sirius, please,” Remus’ voice resurfaced, and he felt a delicate pressure in the palm of his hand. He wondered if Moony was squeezing it, somewhere. “Did you take anything today?” 

“Marlene doesn’t have what I need,” he spoke, his voice feeling ethereal and light while the rest of him felt dreadfully heavy. “I’ve been out for days. I can’t sleep without it.” As he thought about it, he realized he hadn’t slept, really _slept_ since the day he met Remus. God, he really needed to see him now. He struggled to open his eyes, unable. “I’m so tired, Moony.”

There was a touch that appeared along Sirius’ jaw and Sirius knew instantly that it was the touch of Remus’ hand. He could feel the scars that lined the pads of Remus’ palm, he could feel the warmth of his skin, the fondness seeping through his touch.

“You have to stay awake a little longer, love,” Remus whispered, but it faded out, drawing to a point until Sirius could no longer hear it. He never felt Remus’ hand slip away from his own, but he couldn’t feel that, either. The swarm of voices returned, but now he could recognize them all individually. There was Pete. James, again. Lily added her piece – Sirius understood that one.

“ _She gave him a couple Klonopin,”_ was all he heard her say before her voice drifted into obscurity again. She meant Marlene – the Klonopin was from Marlene, but Sirius had never taken them. God, he wished he had, he just didn’t want to sleep if Remus was around.

Suddenly, Sirius felt a shifting against his legs, like the time Carlisle patted him down in first year when he thought Sirius was sneaking drugs into school. That should have been his first clue, because even then, Carlisle’s hands strayed over borders they shouldn’t have, and Sirius had pretended it was all in his imagination. Jesus, how ignorant and innocent he used to be.

These touches weren’t anything like that – these hands stayed far away from any closeness that could possibly be misconstrued. Even when one hand slipped into the pocket of his jeans, the hesitance and apology was palpable. It was Remus, Sirius was sure of it. Knowing it didn’t necessarily keep the uncomfortable squirm from his muscles, so used to recoiling.

Still, knowing that Remus was nearby, that Remus was taking care of him, wherever he was, sent thoughts of Carlisle far away. The feel of Remus’ hand within his returned, with it the return of the warmth and security Sirius felt when he knew he was next to Remus.

Remus’ voice returned, just as warm. “Sirius, are you still with me?” Sirius tried to nod, but wasn’t sure if it was coming through, wasn’t even sure that Remus could see him at all.

“I have to stay with you, Moony,” Sirius reasoned. “You keep Ethan away.” The smallest tremble spread into Sirius’ hand from Remus’ and Sirius quickly realized he had never spoken Carlisle’s name out loud around Remus. There were a lot of things he hadn’t told Remus.

“Can you do something for me?” Remus asked as Sirius felt Remus’ hand slip underneath his neck, tilting his head backward. The movement made him dizzy and, in the dark, he had nothing to orient himself toward. The dark itself was spinning. “I need you to take this tablet.”

“Is it from Marlene?” Sirius asked. Someone had said _something_ about Marlene. Was she there? Had she finally gotten him something that was going to work? “The Valium keeps him away, too,” he mumbled, feeling Remus’ fingertips at his lips, so he parted them slightly. The scent of cigarette smoke lingered on Remus’ fingers as he slipped a bitter tasting tablet onto Sirius’ tongue. Cool glass was pressed to his lips, water flowed gently over his tongue, but as soon as he swallowed, a painful convulsion jerked through Sirius spine.

Before it could even pass, Remus’ arms had enveloped Sirius, and Sirius was oddly delighted by it, imagining the way Remus looked cradling Sirius in his lap. After Remus pulled him close, Sirius felt him brush his fingers slowly through Sirius’ hair, starting again when he reached the back of Sirius’ neck. Nobody had _ever_ treated Sirius this delicately.

“It isn’t Valium,” Remus admitted with a sigh. “Next best thing.” Sirius let out a huff.

“Next best thing is just _you_ , Moony,” Sirius said, after another wave of muscle contraction passed, leaving a slight tremble in its wake. “Maybe better. You certainly _taste_ much better.” He smirked, letting his eyebrow flash up for a moment, and he wished he could see the resulting expression on Remus’ face, absolutely _crazy_ over the shade of pink that spread through Remus’ cheeks whenever he got a little embarrassed. Though he couldn’t see it, he felt the way Remus’ hand stalled at the back of his neck, his thumb ghosting down the shell of his ear.

“We’re in mixed company here, Pads,” Remus said, his voice a little tighter and a little higher than it had been only a sentence ago. Oh, he had to see Remus’ face for this.

“It’s not like it’s a secret,” he said, working his eyes open one at a time, greeted first by that bright shade of rose underneath the scars and freckles on Remus’ cheeks. That blush echoed out in Sirius’ expression as an overly smug grin accompanied by as high an arch in his eyebrow as he could gain. The blush grew deeper, but Sirius’ focus shifted.

In Remus’ eyes, there were thousands of emotions, each a slightly different incarnation than the last, building upon each other as a spectrum. He was terrified and angry and grateful, and they were all colliding together, muddling the bright yellow colour of his eyes. Sirius wanted to tell him everything was fine, but another sharp stiffening of his muscles prevented him from saying anything, blanking the smile from his face, forcing a groan out of his lungs.

“Does this next best thing work the same?” he asked, closing his eyes again to return to the spinning dark, in hopes that it would stop the spasms, at least. It didn’t.

He heard Remus take a breath. “I hope so.” As the tremors disappeared for a moment, every drop of energy left in Sirius vanished with them, and he wasn’t sure he could feel Remus holding him any longer. He was no longer sure where he was. Hadn’t Carlisle taken Remus away? Or was that his mother? If Remus was here, Sirius had to explain. He had to warn him.

“What he told you before,” Sirius droned, his voice sounding very far away. “Don’t believe it. It isn’t true.” Could Remus hear him? He didn’t say anything back. “Please don’t leave me,” he called into the dark, unable to even hear his own voice, but _knowing_ he spoke.

“I’m not leaving,” he heard as a whisper, pressed right to his ear, the warmth of Remus’ breath spreading like liquid over his skin. A soft pressure appeared against Sirius’ forehead, that same warmth of breath transitioned over his lips. Sirius let out a sigh, relishing in Remus’ forehead against his own, drawing in the spent breath that was expended from Remus’ lips.

“You know,” he spoke into the dark with a tired smile. “I think I might like to fall in love with you, Moony.” He couldn’t even be sure this was real. _Remus_ was too good to be real.

The skin against his forehead became softer, but warmer as Remus moved his lips there instead, and he parted them slightly, peppering soft, open kisses to Sirius’ skin.

With his voice just as clear as it had been when it was pressed right to Sirius’ ear, Remus replied, breathing out a grateful sigh into Sirius’ pores. “I may have already beaten you to it.”

As he began to drift in and out of consciousness, the same voices warped together around him. This time, he could tease them all out individually. To his right, James was gushing poetically about Remus admitting to falling in love, but there was no response from Remus. In the background, Peter was wondering if Sirius was going to be alright. Again, no response from Remus. From a distance, Lily shifted between the conversation with the boys and her updates to Marlene. The only way Sirius knew Remus was still there was from his lips on Sirius’ forehead.

It all began to get further and further away. Sirius ripped and clawed at the darkness around him, trying desperately to stay where he could feel Remus with him. Just before it all got swept away, he heard Remus’ voice, melodic and steady, calling out to him.

“Sleep, love,” he said, the rumbling of his voice deepened by the echoes of the void, and Sirius could feel Remus’ hand pressed flat against his chest. “But come _back_ to me.” The stillness of Remus’ voice seeped into his veins. “I’ll wait right here for you.” Sirius obeyed. He let go.

* * *

**_Remus _ **

It had been almost two weeks since Sirius had gone into withdrawals at James’ house, almost two weeks since Remus felt like he could breathe easy again. That night, Marlene had come over to help them get through it. They had stayed up all night with Sirius, who wandered in and out of wakefulness. The Klonopin had helped with the tremors. When morning had finally come, they had managed to keep Sirius awake and cognizant for several hours.

During the last two weeks, Sirius had been through a few Black days, but most of them had been Silver. He had stayed with James for most of those days. Sometimes, after Remus got out of class, Sirius would come over and they would sit on opposite walls of Remus’ bedroom, just talking. One very late night, in the bedroom that had been designated as Sirius’ room at James’ house, Sirius spilled everything about what happened to him. How a very prominent authority figure at Sirius’ old university had been forcing him to bend to his will in exchange for the admission of his younger brother, Regulus, to the same school. Sirius had even told Remus how his mother _knew_ that it was happening, that Sirius had told her, flat out, and she had done nothing. No, _more_ than nothing, she had explicitly told him to do what this man asked, because Regulus was more _important_. Because she said Sirius had been _asking_ for it.

In all his life, Remus had never felt rage build so rampantly, so out of control as he did that night, the night Sirius confessed his past. Not even when he’d been bullied in grade school for his scars, not even when he’d found out that Fenrir had been released. This, _this_ made him want to destroy something, and he wanted to start with the face of the man who had done this.

Sirius refused to tell Remus his name, for good reason. Remus was likely to hunt him down and ruin his life, the way he had ruined Sirius’. But Sirius had forgotten that he had said his name out loud to Remus when he was in the throes of withdrawal. Remus knew this man’s name, at least his first name. It seethed through his mind constantly. Ethan. _Ethan_.

Still, not _all_ days had been Silver. But there hadn’t been a day like the one they had shared on the roof of James’ house. No new love marks, no removal of clothing. The most contact they’d had were the all-too-brief kisses they left each other when they parted, to help them get through the separation. They each pretended they never knew how long they would be apart, but they always managed to find ways to be together, day after day. There was plenty of hand-holding, plenty of forehead kisses, plenty of tucking hair behind ears.

Remus certainly didn’t want to push anything, especially not after what Sirius had just been through. He’d told Remus about the dream he had during his withdrawal, how that man, _Ethan_ , had bound Remus to the floor and forced Remus to watch him touch Sirius. That part had been hard for Sirius to say. It had been hard for Remus to hear. His stomach turned.

After the withdrawals, Marlene had put Sirius on a steady regimen of the new drug, the Klonopin, keeping close track of what he needed and when. She was quite strict about not letting Sirius take any more than what he needed. By this point, Sirius was only taking one tablet a day, just before bed. It kept the nightmares at bay, Sirius said. Remus had squeezed his hand, then.

Every day that passed, Sirius seemed to ease himself into touching and being touched in return. Sometimes, being touched without warning. The first few days had been Black, and Remus had been very careful about not making any mistakes. When they got to Silver, Sirius sat close to Remus on the couch as they talked, letting his fingers play with the fraying thread at the holes of Remus’ jeans. Another Silver day, Sirius took his hand. The next, Sirius asked Remus to kiss him, and Remus gratefully agreed, but was careful to keep it as light as he could.

Today had been a Bronze day, but Remus had been stuck on campus well into the night, having promised to help McGonagall, his favorite professor, with grading papers for another class. The texts from Sirius started off with _‘I miss you’_ and ‘ _hurry and finish so I can come over’_ followed by ‘ _I don’t care how late it is, Moony, I want to see you._ ’ But there had been so much to do, and Remus didn’t get home until well after midnight. He told Sirius not to come over.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to see Sirius. _That_ was the problem. He wanted to see Sirius rather desperately. He was aching to see him, but _more_ than just see him, and he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do something or say something to make Sirius uncomfortable. What he needed to do was go home, take care of this rather imminent need, so he could think clearly again.

But he _had_ said something wrong. The texts from Sirius were becoming much less subtle, the later into the night it became. The Klonopin didn’t knock him out right away anymore, he said, it just made him a lot less tense. This lack of tension evidently translated into a lack of filter, and Sirius said things that led Remus down a very specific path, until he couldn’t breathe.

It went so far as Sirius sending Remus a couple pictures. There wasn’t anything vital that was uncovered in these pictures, but they definitely weren’t pictures Remus could open in public. It was the pictures that made Remus realize he was pushing this much too far. Mostly because he asked for more _,_ and the amount of skin in the next photo was _problematic_.

The problem was that Remus had unintentionally goaded him on, saying things that he hadn’t intended to say. The further into this grave he continued to dig himself, the more he realized that, once the drugs wore off, Sirius may not want to participate in _any_ of this. And Remus couldn’t live with himself if he led Sirius to do something he wouldn’t do sober.

So, he backed off. He didn’t respond to the last picture (though he desperately wanted to) and he took several hours to cool off before saying anything more. Because it only had to go a little bit further before Remus hit the point of no return and requested something _else_.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Padfoot: I miss your mouth**

_Moony_ : you see my mouth all the time

**Padfoot: I miss my mouth being**

**with your mouth**

**Padfoot: do you know how hot you are?**

**Padfoot: I didn’t mean LOOKS when**

**I said that, but fuck. that too.**

_Moony_ : I’m aware that I’m warm, yes

**Padfoot: I don’t think you know HOW warm**

**Padfoot: god, your mouth is so hot**

_Moony_ : can we stop talking about

my mouth?

**Padfoot: wait why**

**Padfoot: what happened?**

**Padfoot: I’ve been talking about your**

**mouth all day, moony**

_Moony_ : I know

_Moony_ : but it’s late. and you get a little wild

after you take your meds

**Padfoot: do I? maybe I should come over**

_Moony_ : fuck. please don’t say that.

**Padfoot: oh, you WANT me to come over?**

_Moony_ : NO. I don’t. that would not be good.

**Padfoot: moons. did I do something wrong?**

**Padfoot: were the pictures too much?**

_Moony_ : no, it’s … me.

**Padfoot: tell me, moony**

_Moony_ : it’s really late and you’ve been texting

me like this all day and I’m … oh, god I don’t

think I should be telling you this

**_________________________________________________________**

When Remus finally made it back to his flat, he let out a sigh of relief to find it was dark, that Pete had actually listened when Remus had told him not to wait up for him. In the state he was in, he really didn’t want to talk to Peter. All he wanted to do was get off _immediately_.

His mobile buzzed in his pocket, sending an electric vibration into his hip and he arched away from it, not needing the extra stimulation that it presented. In his room, he undressed, not quite completely, letting out a long-held breath. Sirius was right, he was so abnormally _hot_.

He crawled into cool sheets, taking a moment to savor how good they felt against his skin before looking over at his mobile again, where he had thrown it from his pocket onto the mattress. Before reading Sirius’ new message, he read over the last one he’d sent.

An ethereal blush rushed into his cheeks. Could he _really_ talk to Sirius about this? He was quite sure that Sirius _explicitly_ knew the way it was coming across, but Remus didn’t want to make things weird. _Oh, by the way, everything you say makes me want to jerk off._

**_________________________________________________________**

**Padfoot: PLEASE moony PLEASE**

**_________________________________________________________**

God, he was _begging_ now. Remus could practically hear Sirius’ voice in his ear. If he thought about it hard enough, and _fuck_ , he was thinking about it _very_ hard, he could imagine Sirius’ tongue running down his ear as he said it. He typed out his first thought, his thumb hovering over the send button. It twitched. _Sent_. Too late to turn back now.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Moony_ : I’m imaging the way you say fuck.

**_________________________________________________________**

The reply from Sirius wasn’t as instantaneous as Remus expected, as immediate as they had been through the rest of the day. His first reaction was to panic. He’d crossed a line and Sirius was never going to speak to him again. It wasn’t Sirius’ fault that he had no filter, he was being medicated, for Christ’s sake. Remus never should have said anything. Fuck. Shit. _Fuck_.

His mobile buzzed and he jumped.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Padfoot: oh.**

**_________________________________________________________**

What did that _mean_? A good _‘oh’_ or a bad _‘oh’_? Oh, **_God_**. He’d definitely fucked up.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Padfoot: oh fuckkk**

**_________________________________________________________**

Oh, **_fuck_**. How many k’s did it take to translate to ‘ _come over and blow me’_?

**_________________________________________________________**

_Moony_ : STOP Sirius please stop

**Padfoot: can I call you?**

_Moony_ : that is a really bad idea

**Padfoot: can I … text you … through it?**

**_________________________________________________________**

Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ, it was getting worse. So, _so_ much worse.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Moony_ : oh god no

**Padfoot: what if I … maybe you could text**

**me through it, too**

_Moony_ : pads, I don’t think

_Moony_ : have you even

_Moony_ : I need to stop hitting send

**Padfoot: no, I haven’t. not since. It might be**

**easier for us later if we do it this way first.**

_Moony_ : us? Later?

**Padfoot: moony, did you think I was going to**

**want to be celibate for the rest of my life?**

**_________________________________________________________**

**_Us_**. _Later_. They hadn’t even discussed that yet. Sure, of course, he didn’t think that Sirius would _never_ want to take that step, but this was not the way he expected to find out.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Moony_ : no, I … just didn’t want to push it.

_Moony_ : it’s too soon.

_Moony_ : are you sure?

**Padfoot: if you could see me, you’d**

**know how sure**

_Moony_ : oh fuck. I wish I could see you

**Padfoot: I have more pictures**

_Moony_ : SHIT. if you send me any more

pictures, I won’t survive them

**Padfoot: I was fully clothed in all the others**

_Moony_ : you were definitely NOT fully

clothed. they were MURDER.

**Padfoot: it’s not too soon, Moony. I swear.**

**Padfoot: can’t I just call you? Pleeeeease**

**_________________________________________________________**

With a short, anxious breath, he started to imagine the possibility of listening to Sirius’ voice while he brought himself off. Sirius speaking low, breathing into the phone, _describing_ what he was doing to himself while Remus got closer and closer to the edge. Oh, _yes_.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Moony_ : fuck it. I need to hear your voice.

**_________________________________________________________**

Remus’ mobile instantly rang in his hand. A picture of him and Sirius popped up on the screen, with Sirius’ lips against his cheek. He slid his thumb across the screen and answered.

“Pads, I …” he started to argue, rethinking the whole situation. Sirius interrupted.

“ _Fuck_ , Moony,” he breathed hard into the receiver and the vibrations that carried that breath went down the back of Remus’ neck and into his hips. His hand followed it down.

“Oh, God,” Remus groaned, craning his head deep into the pillow underneath it, the weight of his fingers increased over the layer of fabric that kept him covered.

“You really do like the way I say fuck,” Sirius huffed, his voice low, seeping through the line and into Remus’ ear. He imagined feeling the warmth of Sirius’ breath against his neck.

“If you could see me, you’d know how much,” Remus said, slipping his hand underneath the elastic of his boxers. A soft sight of satisfaction fell from his lips into the line.

Sirius let out an aching sort of whimper. “Fuck. I’m so tired of being fragile. I’m tired of being afraid of wanting you. I want to touch you _myself_ , Moony.” The pace of Remus’ breathing spiked, he panted into the phone for Sirius to hear as he pulled the last remainder of clothing from his hips. Sirius’ breathing stalled, seeming to listen with uninterrupted attention.

“Then tell me how you’d touch me,” Remus prompted, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he dug around in his bedside table, retrieving a small tube. He squeezed the warm liquid into one hand, tossing the tube to hold the phone. He waited for Sirius to speak.

Sirius swallowed, it was audible from the other end, and Remus moved a deep breath in and out. “I’d take off everything first. _Everything_ ,” Sirius whispered, and Remus wrapped his wet hand around his length, sending a small hitch into his breathing. “Because I would want to touch every inch of your skin, Moony. I want to memorize your body like a map, recognize every scar by the way it feels against my tongue.” He stopped to take in a trembling, uneven breath, and he let it out slowly, curses buried within his breath. Suddenly, Remus was overly stimulated by the realization that Sirius was, at that moment, sliding his nimble fingers along his own cock.

“Tell me what you’re doing right now,” Remus practically begged. A breathy laugh came through the line followed by the sound of Sirius licking his lips.

“Imaging that my fist is your mouth,” he replied on an empty breath, sucking in deeply, then letting it out as a loud moan. Remus’ grip increased, pace increased.

“ _Fuck_. Is that what you want me to do to you?” Remus asked. Sirius replied with a groan.

“Yes. _God_. Tell me. Tell me what you’d do to me, Moony, _please_ ,” Sirius moaned, and Remus hoped he wasn’t imaging hearing the rhythmic slide of Sirius’ fingers in the background, matched to the pace of Sirius’ rapid breathing in his ear. He ground his teeth in need.

“I just want to kiss you, Sirius,” he exhaled sharply. “From head to toe. My lips in places that make you fall _apart_ underneath me.” A soft, frantic whine slipped through the line, sending an arch into Remus’ spine, a fury into his fist. “I want to find out if you taste the same all over or if every part of you tastes unique.” Sirius laughed again, it developed into a long breath.

“Which one are you hoping for?” he asked. Remus didn’t answer right away. He just closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of Sirius’ stimulated breathing, the way it changed, likely based on the movement of his hand. He had to force himself to slow his own hold.

“I’m hoping for unique,” he began, holding himself upright without any movement, to try and delay the inevitable. “Because then I could spend days _, weeks_ exploring you, cataloguing every minuscule difference between the taste of your mouth …” he paused, taking a preparatory breath for what he was about to say out loud. “And the taste of your cock.”

“Oh, fuck, Moony, _fuck_ ,” Sirius moaned hard. “Don’t stop.” The movement of Remus’ hand resumed in full, faster and harder, and his breathing picked up the pace.

“If your cock tastes as sweet as your tongue,” he began, his breaths coming in shorter, matched to every downward shift of his wrist, “God, I’d never want to put my mouth on anything else again.” The implied heat of Sirius’ panted breath sent Remus reeling.

Sirius swallowed loudly. “Tell me how you’d suck me off.”

“Oh, _fuck_ , Sirius,” he growled, deep and heavy. “Fuck, I just want to taste you first. Just my tongue, just … just to _taste_ you, every single part of you. Jesus, that sounds so fucked up.”

“No, it’s … God, it’s so fucking hot, Moony. Give me more, _fuck_ ,” Sirius panted.

“I’d kiss you from base to tip, circle my tongue around the swollen head of your cock, and then take you deep into my throat.” Remus’ legs twitched as he arched up from the mattress, rocking his hips into his fist. “I’d moan and you’d feel the vibration on my lips.”

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Sirius repeated, breathing harder, heavier.

“I’d pull back to slide my tongue over the slit at the tip of your cock and I’d swirl the tip of my tongue right there, over and over, until you’re shaking underneath me.” Remus pumped breath into his words in the time with the pumping of his fist. Nearly there, _God_ , so close.

“Yes, yes, God, _yes_ ,” Sirius chanted mindlessly on the other end, just as close.

“You’d slide right down again, and I would let you fuck the back of my throat,” Remus closed his eyes tightly, as he pictured Sirius’ aching expression.

“ _Oh, God_ ,” Sirius called out, in a voice that was bordering broken – high and tight like the grip of Remus’ hand on his cock. He just needed Sirius to _speak_ to him. One more time.

“Tell me how you’d want it, Sirius. Tell me how you want _me_ ,” Remus whispered.

Sirius’ voice quivered as he pulled in a breath. “I want you to swallow me whole, Moony. I want you to get off as I come down your throat.”

“Oh, _yes_ , Sirius, fuck,” Remus groaned, his vision going dark as the long tendons in his hips jerked, spreading up as tension into his abdomen. He spilled out, aching and trembling, white ribbons all over his belly and all over his hand, with a loud, cursing, panting breath, and Sirius’ name was buried somewhere in the middle.

“Oh my fucking _God_ ,” Sirius growled in a trembling voice, knowing that he bore audible witness to Remus’ orgasm from the other end. “ _Moony_.”

“Come for me, Sirius,” Remus breathed hard into the line. “Come for me, the way I just came, wishing you could fuck me in the mouth.” The sound from Sirius’ throat was nearly a yell.

“ _Fuck._ ” His breathing was ragged. “More, _more_. Jesus fucking Christ,” Sirius begged.

“Imagine the way I’d moan, because I’m so fucking ruined for you,” Remus sighed heavily, feeling himself getting hard again. “Imagine sliding in and out of my lips, the tip of your cock hitting the back of my throat with every thrust.” Suddenly, Sirius’ voice went high and quiet, and Remus knew he was on a very fine edge. He also knew _exactly_ what to say to push Sirius over that edge. “Imagine the way I’d look up at you with your cock in my mouth.”

“Oh, fuck _me_ ,” Sirius groaned loudly, his voice shuddering, and Remus closed his eyes tight, trying to envision the rapturous look on Sirius’ face, as he listened to the delirious sounds Sirius made as he came. Remus had to clench a fist to keep from touching himself. “ _God_ ,” Sirius breathed out afterward, then sucked in air like he’d been starved of it.

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, eyebrow raised high, cock still twitching. For some time, Sirius was quiet, and Remus almost wondered if he were starting to regret doing this.

“You know,” Sirius finally exhaled, followed by a soft, satisfied laughter that developed into words. “You might regret how much you built that up for me.” Remus smirked.

“Oh, no, that was _tame_ in comparison to all the things I would’ve done to you if you had been right in front of me.” Sirius took in a breath through clenched teeth.

“Fuck,” Sirius groaned, voice mumbled, as if his hand was over his face. “This didn’t solve anything.” He paused, surely to make Remus sweat. “I just want you _more_ now.” Remus bit down on his tongue, trying to decide if he really was going to say what he intended to say. Oh, yes.

“We could always go again.” Sirius let out a deep breath in a single moment.

“Fuck _yes_.”

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

He had been pushing boundaries all night. He knew. He was pretty sure Remus knew, but it seemed like he was excusing Sirius under the guise of drug-induced impulsivity. That was only partly true. The Klonopin just made him much more comfortable with the idea.

The last two weeks hadn’t been easy. The only thing that made it feel easier was spending it with Remus. They had gone through several Black days, a few Silver, and all of them irritated Sirius. All he wanted to do was pull Remus against his chest and kiss him deeply, but there was _so much_ holding him back. His withdrawal-fueled fever dream was a big part of that.

When Marlene had put him on a strict drug regimen, it hadn’t done anything but make him sleepy, which would’ve been fine a month ago, but not when there was so much time wasted not spent with Remus. Remus was unsurprisingly understanding of everything.

Even James had done his part, mostly in offering a room in his house for Sirius to stay, so he didn’t have to go back to a frigid flat with only a single space heater that had been forced upon him by Marlene. Tonight, he hadn’t stayed at James. He had gone back to his frigid flat.

All day long, he had been texting Remus, while Remus was at uni. Evidently, Remus had offered to stay after and help a professor with grading some papers. At first, that thought sent a terrifying, searing stone into the pit of Sirius’ gut, before he realized that had _only_ been code with Ethan Carlisle. Other professors likely _did_ need help with grading papers. Other professors likely didn’t just say that to cover up the fact that they were molesting their students.

The texts between he and Remus grew bolder as daylight waned. It started innocently enough, the exchanges of ‘ _I miss you_ ’ and ‘ _I can’t wait to see you_.’ But the last several days he had spent with Remus had been cruel to Sirius. All he could think about was the way Remus had unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt in the warmth by the fire in the Potter’s sitting room, or the way he had run his hand through his hair, leaving Sirius to ogle the curve of his bicep.

As it got dark, Sirius’ tone through the text messages had escalated rather rapidly, going from relatively innocent to outright obscene. Never one to shy away from any of Sirius’ advances, Remus had responded in like fashion, until Sirius thought he might come apart.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Padfoot_ : what are you wearing?

**Moony: I’m in a jumper?**

_Padfoot_ : you’re no fun at all, you know that

**Moony: oh, is that what this is?**

_Padfoot_ : don’t play coy, moons

**Moony: you’re alone, why don’t you tell**

**me what YOU’RE wearing instead**

_Padfoot_ : that shirt i stole from you

**Moony: damn, I didn’t get to see you in it**

_Padfoot_ : oh, I can fix that

**Moony: oh yeah?**

**_________________________________________________________**

With an arrogant smirk and a cocked eyebrow, Sirius arranged himself in Remus’ loose, black t-shirt that bore the name of an obscure band that Sirius had never heard of. He strategically stretched out the collar a little to expose his collarbone and snapped a picture, making sure to bite down subtly on his bottom lip and look up through his lashes. As he proofed the picture, the hem of Remus’ shirt barely covering his naked thighs, he grinned. _Send_.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Padfoot_ : _(media)_

**Moony: I**

**Moony: what**

**Moony: why**

**Moony: fuck**

_Padfoot_ : you literally asked for it

**Moony: you didn’t tell me you were**

**Moony: are you**

**Moony: are you wearing anything else?**

_Padfoot_ : nope

**Moony: FUCK**

**Moony: do I have your permission to save this?**

_Padfoot_ : how indecent, moony

_Padfoot_ : you absolutely do

**Moony: send me more**

**_________________________________________________________**

There had only been one more picture sent, this one even _less_ tame than the last, with Sirius fully reclined in bed, with the hem of Remus’ shirt raised just enough to showcase his bare hipbone. Sirius made sure that the bottom of the picture cut off anything incriminating, but it was rather obvious that there was no other fabric below his waist.

That picture elicited no response. A couple more salacious comments also went unanswered, and Sirius started to grow concerned that he had crossed a very defined line. The last text Sirius had sent, about how he missed Remus’ mouth, finally got a reply several hours later, but the witty banter was missing from the tone of Remus’ words. He started intentionally ignoring innuendo. Sirius had definitely done something wrong. Fuck. Shit. _Fuck_.

When Sirius asked what he had done, it didn’t take long to figure out what was the perceived problem. Ever the saint, Remus was afraid he was coaxing Sirius into doing something he didn’t want to do, despite how Sirius had been the one to initiate this breed of conversation.

Remus even mentioned that Sirius got _‘a little wild’_ after taking his Klonopin, which wasn’t necessarily untrue. But the drug didn’t turn him into someone else – it turned him into the version of himself he wanted to be without it. It eased the transition back into himself.

But there was something else that Remus was holding back, something he was keeping from Sirius, something that remained unsaid. Sirius wasn’t about to let it go. Especially not after Remus even admitted it was something he shouldn’t even be telling Sirius in the first place. It only took a little bit of prodding on Sirius’ part before Remus’ replied with the truth.

**_______________________________________________________**

**Moony: I’m imagining the way you say fuck.**

**_______________________________________________________**

Oh. _Oh_. This was exactly what Sirius had been aiming for all fucking night – for Remus to admit he was just as desperate for release as Sirius was. But when Sirius responded, exceptionally eager and willing, Remus rescinded, retreating back into denial and dissent.

But the damage was done, and now Sirius _knew_. More importantly, he knew that it would take very little convincing to get Remus to agree to do something very reckless. At first, Remus declined the request for a phone call, denied letting Sirius come over in person, turned down the offer for more pictures of Sirius, pictures that were much more _exposed_ than the ones before.

When Remus delicately mentioned the fact that Sirius likely hadn’t had this sort of experience since the last, _very bad_ experience, Sirius paused. In truth, he wasn’t sure it was something he could even do, physiologically. Drugs or not, even his own touch in this context might stir up some very unwanted, unpleasant emotions. Hell, it could even trigger a full-blown panic attack if he and Remus weren’t both careful. It didn’t matter. He wanted to try.

No, he _had_ to try. Because this was the first time in a very long time that he even considered doing something like this with another person. It was the first time in a long time that this need had even been present at all. Well, the roof had come first, but was never resolved. 

Sure, it was fucking terrifying, considering all the physical trauma he had been subjected to over the last year. But it was something he was going to have to overcome eventually, and who better to overcome it with than the person he felt the safest with in the world?

Who knows, it might be easier for him to do it this way. To get _himself_ off, with the help of the bass of Remus’ voice buried in the tight, breathy moans drawing up from his lungs – the same sounds Remus had made on the roof that night at James’ house.

Finally, after several attempts to get Remus to agree to something, _anything_ , Sirius was nearly ready to give up. One final request for a phone call, but Remus had gone silent. From across his bed, Sirius stared at his mobile in the dark, waiting for the screen to light up.

**_______________________________________________________**

**Moony: fuck it. I need to hear your voice.**

**_______________________________________________________**

His thumb pressed the call icon in a flash, and Remus picked up just as quickly. But he immediately went into an argument, trying to talk Sirius down. Sirius interrupted.

“ _Fuck_ , Moony,” he breathed hard into the phone and the response from Remus’ throat was instantaneous and deep, pulling up from places in his lungs that made Sirius weak.

“Oh, God.” There was an instant reaction in Sirius’ hips, but Sirius wasn’t quite ready to let his hand slip down between his legs, so he turned, using the mattress for friction.

“You really do like the way I say fuck,” he mumbled into the sheets, his breathing noticeably spiking in pace with the beat of his heart. Remus let out a cavernous hum and the vibrations of it sent another jolt down Sirius’ legs. He curved deep into the bed.

“If you could see me, you’d know how much,” Remus said, the smirk on his face coming through in his tone as he echoed something that Sirius had said earlier about how sure he was that he wanted to do this. A strange sort of hitch went into Remus’ voice as he spoke, and Sirius’ brow arched in response to it, the way a dog’s ears pricked up at a new sound.

The realization that Remus was most likely touching himself drove an aching shudder down his spine, and he let himself imagine what it would look like. The vacant, blissful look on Remus’ face, the way his mouth hung open, the way his eyes screwed tight.

A whimper slipped through Sirius’ lips as he turned over, holding his hand tight over his stomach. “Fuck,” he sighed, frustration bleeding through the cadence of his voice. “I’m so tired of being fragile. I’m tired of being afraid of wanting you.” With no fabric barrier to stop him, his hand drove forward a little, settling over his hipbone. “I want to touch you _myself_ , Moony.”

The reply from Remus’ end came through as breath, hard and heaving, and Sirius’ body responded eagerly to it. It sounded as though the weight of Remus’ breath shifted, leaving Sirius to envision what was happening on the other end. It sounded like Remus was _undressing_.

“Then tell me how you’d touch me,” Remus prompted, a rich growl hidden in the static of Remus’ voice coming through the phone. With Remus’ hungry voice echoing in his ear, Sirius let his hand slip forward a little further, brushing over the swollen, sensitive head of his cock.

The touch wasn’t anything like he had prepared himself for. There was no feeling of disgust suddenly in his gut, no flashes of trauma in the back of his mind. There was only the sound of Remus’ lips, pressed close to the phone, panting heavily into the line. There was only the electricity of his fingertips sending shocks deeper into his hips, as they arched into his hand.

“I’d take everything off,” Sirius said behind a hard swallow, the smack of his wet lips reverberating into the line. “ _Everything_ ,” he repeated, more insistently, as he carefully wrapped his fingers around his cock. “Because I would want to touch every inch of your skin, Moony.” As his wrist shifted less the smoothly along his skin, he paused his movement to squeeze some lotion into his hand, to ease the slide of his fingers. “I want to memorize your body like a map, recognize every scar by the way it feels against my tongue.” The measure of his touch increased in time, until his breathing was racing, his heart was pounding, his grip tightening.

“Tell me what you’re doing right now,” Remus said, a hint of command in his voice, which stimulated Sirius more than he expected. A soft, desperate laugh drew from his lips.

“Imagining that my fist is your mouth,” he panted, no breath left in his lungs. He pulled in a deep breath to replace the oxygen lost, a euphoric, dizzying feeling sweeping in alongside.

“Fuck,” Remus groaned. “Is that what you want me to do to you?” The unevenness of his shallow breathing gave Sirius a suddenly clear awareness that, _just then_ , Remus’ long fingers were delivering full, rapid strokes along his own length. Sirius’ pace increased as a result.

“Yes, _God_ ,” Sirius answered immediately, his voice sounding distant. “Tell me,” he begged of Remus. “Tell me what you’d do to me, Moony. _Please_.” He let his head fall back to his pillow.

“I just want to kiss you, Sirius,” Remus replied, the essence of his voice gone soft, a striking contrast from the demand in his throat from only a moment ago. But as he continued, the grinding of anxious breath as it curled up from his throat returned in full, leaving Sirius breathless. “From head to toe. My lips in places that make you fall apart underneath me.” A pathetic whimper pressed from Sirius’ lips as he matched the rhythm of his hand to the words falling from Remus’ lips. “I want to find out if you taste the same all over,” he paused and Sirius’ hand slowed in response. “Or if every part of you tastes unique.” Sirius laughed.

“Which one are you hoping for?” he spurred Remus along, desperate to hear him speak, but Remus went absolutely quiet. The realization that Remus was being intentionally silent to better hear the breathy sounds coming from Sirius’ end of the line stoked the flame in his gut.

“I’m hoping for unique,” Remus finally replied, and it was evident that he was specifically limiting the number of breaths he let out, as they all came out stunted and clipped. Listening to Remus struggle for control in the face of hearing Sirius grow ever closer to climax stirred something dangerous in Sirius’ chest. It only grew more treacherous under the sound of Remus’ voice, hollow and dark and heavy. “Because then I could spend days … _weeks_ exploring you, cataloguing every minuscule difference between the taste of your mouth …” he trailed off and Sirius held his breath for what was to come. “And the taste of your cock.”

“Oh, fuck, Moony, _fuck_ ,” Sirius groaned, holding down the sudden edge of an orgasm that built upon the slight surprise of how filthy Remus’ mouth could be. “Don’t stop.”

“If your cock tastes as sweet as your tongue,” he paused to take a very deep breath, and Sirius strained to try to hear the skilled work of Remus’ hand around his own skin. “God, I’d never want to put my mouth on anything else again.” An anticipatory twitch rolled through Sirius’ hips and he took in a deep breath, slowing his hand. Not yet. _Not yet_.

Feeling brave, he made a demand. “Tell me how you’d suck me off.”

“Oh, _fuck_ , Sirius,” Remus said, his voice dipping low, grating richly along his throat. “Fuck, I just want to taste you first. Just my tongue, just …” he swallowed hard. “Just to taste you, every single part of you.” The idea of Remus’ tongue in every hidden cove of Sirius’ skin divided the rush of his blood, one faction blooming out under the surface of his skin, the other surging deep into his hips. “Jesus, that sounds so fucked up,” Remus mumbled.

“No, it’s …” Sirius stopped to blow out a breath. “God, it’s so fucking hot, Moony.” He could feel the pending orgasm in his belly swirling, crashing, breaking. “Give me more. Fuck.”

Remus continued his verbal tirade. “I’d kiss you from base to tip, circle my tongue around the swollen head of your cock, then take you deep into my throat.” Sirius closed his eyes in the dark, pretended the pressure on his cock was from Remus’ lips. “I’d moan and you’d feel the vibrations in my throat.” His hand trembled, mimicking the tremors of Remus’ moan.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Sirius worded mindlessly, vowels lengthening as breath shortened.

“I’d pull back to slide my tongue over the slit at the tip of your cock. I would swirl the tip of my tongue _right there_ , over and over, until you’re shaking underneath me.” Remus’ voice took on a cruel edge, like he knew exactly what to say to make Sirius suffer immensely.

“Yes, yes, _God, yes_ ,” Sirius called out, arching his back off of the mattress, matting his long hair in the pillow underneath his head, as Remus’ breathing grew coarser.

“You’d slide right down into my throat again and I would let you fuck the back of my throat,” Remus hummed, the rise and fall of his words growing more unsteady, more rushed.

“Oh, _God_.” Sirius’ voice went vacant, lost to the blind ecstasy in Remus’ voice, lost to the graphic description of how Remus wanted to bury Sirius’ cock in his throat. God, he was _so close_.

“Tell me how you’d want it, Sirius,” Remus ordered. “Tell me how you want me.”

Sirius took in a nervous breath. “I want you to swallow me whole, Moony,” he moaned under weighted air. “I want you to get off as I come down your throat.”

“Oh, yes, Sirius, _fuck_ ,” Remus groaned heavily, words trembling as they ran up through his throat. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.” Even in a strained whisper, his voice howled, every syllable filled with too much breath, with a satiated ache. Oh, _fuck_. That was the sound of Remus _coming_.

“Oh my fucking _God_ ,” Sirius growled, fingers curling tight. “ _Moony_.”

“Come for me, Sirius,” Remus breathed out, spent and coming down. “Come for me, the way I just came, wishing you could fuck me in the mouth.” The indelicate words coming from Remus’ lips, buried in the way he struggled to catch his breath sent Sirius spiraling.

“Fuck. _More_. Jesus fucking Christ,” Sirius pleaded, throat tight. Remus eagerly obliged.

“Imagine the way I’d moan, because I’m so fucking ruined for you,” Remus said, the cadence of his breaths evening into a calm, calculating rhythm, dedicated to saying just the right things to push Sirius over a very thin, very delicate edge. “Imagine sliding in and out of my lips, the tip of your cock hitting the back of my throat with every thrust.” There was nothing left in Sirius’ brain but the depth of Remus’ voice and Sirius’ own swearing. Finally, Remus said the one thing he knew, with what sounded like full certainty in his warm, resonant voice, would give Sirius a breath-robbing climax. “Imagine the way I’d look up at you with your cock in my mouth.”

And he was right. “Oh, _fuck me_ ,” Sirius whined sharply, a blissful shudder rolling through his belly, curving through his hips, released in thick, white spurts atop his skin as his muscles contracted and released in an unsteady, erratic pattern. Waves of residual tension coursed through his hips, through his abdomen, and he let it ride out. “God,” he breathed out heavily.

“Yeah,” Remus replied, sounding equally satisfied and expended. There was several moments of near-silence, filled with catching of breath and muttered praises.

“You know,” Sirius laughed. “You might regret how much you built that up for me.”

Remus clicked his tongue in disagreement. “Oh, no. That was tame in comparison to all the things I would’ve done to you if you had been right in front of me.”

“Fuck,” Sirius mumbled, holding his hand on his chest, trying to talk himself down from getting hard again. “This didn’t solve anything. I just want you _more_ now.” Remus didn’t hesitate.

“We could always go again.” Sirius’ cock twitched.

“Fuck yes.”


	6. How I Could Love You, If I Could Let You Stay

**_ Sirius _ **

Holy _shit_. Sirius sat up sharply in bed the next morning, greeted by a rush of cold air, mixed in with the minimal amount of heat coming from the space heater. For a moment, Sirius sat stone-still, trying to untangle what was left in his mind. Had last night actually _happened_?

As he shifted in his place, it was obvious it _had_ , because he was sore. _All over_. Almost as if Remus had actually been here, that he had done all the things he had whispered into the phone, with his voice low and hungry. Yeah, Sirius needed to try not to think about that. Just imagining the way Remus had described taking Sirius into his throat proved to be too stimulating.

There were a lot of things that swarmed in for his attention, the more he woke. But the crushing weight of anxiety that Sirius expected was not among them. Even at the time, even as he had listened to the indecent sounds of Remus’ breathing and gasping, even though he had so readily responded to his own uncertain touch, even in the middle of each orgasm (he’d had _three_ ), he worried he would pay for this recklessness the next day in stockpiled pain and panic.

But there was no pain. No panic. No need to run. It was unusual, considering this was the first time, since long before Ethan Carlisle, that Sirius had experienced this sort of _satisfaction_. Carlisle was simply the worst offender in a long history of people who used Sirius for their own pleasure, with no regard to what Sirius felt. And maybe that was part of why this had been so _easy_ with Remus. Everything that Remus described was something he wanted to do to make _Sirius_ come apart in his hands, to lead _Sirius_ to an earth-moving, leg-trembling, body-aching orgasm. And, good _God_ , had he done that. Three fucking times.

It was new for Sirius, to be cared for like this. It was _nice_. It made everything that he did with Remus so much more natural and comfortable, knowing that Remus had only ever wanted Sirius to be happy. His happiness had never been anyone’s priority before, often not even his own. It left Sirius with a very explicit trust in Remus, which was welcome and _wonderful_.

As he buried himself deeply into the mass of blankets, he searched their folds for his mobile. The message icon flashed on his lock screen – he could barely open it fast enough, but he might’ve been slightly disappointed to find it wasn’t from Remus.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Prongs** : **didn’t hear from you**

**last night. you alright?**

_Padfoot_ : oh, I’m fucking brilliant, mate.

Sorry, I saw your text last night, but I was …

rather preoccupied.

**Prongs** : **oh??????**

**Prongs: were you with Moony???** 👀👀👀

_Padfoot_ : don’t look at me like that

_Padfoot_ : technically, I was not with moony.

**Prongs: technically**

_Padfoot_ : technically

**Prongs: sounds fake, but okay.**

_Padfoot_ : I was on the phone with moony 

**Prongs: that sounds much more innocent**

**than you implied**

_Padfoot_ : I can assure you, it was not.

**Prongs: WHAT**

**Prongs: WHAT ARE YOU SAYING RIGHT NOW**

_Padfoot_ : take a wild fucking guess, mate

**Prongs: DID YOU AND MOONY HAVE PHONE**

**SEX LAST NIGHT**

_Padfoot_ : we absolutely did.

**Prongs: OH MY GOD YES**

_Padfoot_ : that’s what he said.

**Prongs: is it weird to say that I’m proud of you??**

_Padfoot_ : I’m pretty proud of myself, actually.

**Prongs: you fucking should be. Can I start**

**introducing Moony as your boyfriend now?**

_Padfoot_ : fuck, we still haven’t talked about it

_Padfoot_ : I don’t think Moony would say no

if I asked him

_Padfoot_ : right??

**Prongs: oh, no way. he’s mental for you.**

_Padfoot_ : I’ve never had a boyfriend before.

**Prongs: really? But you’re so cute.**

_Padfoot_ : you’re making me blush, Prongs

**Prongs: I’d date you**

_Padfoot_ : don’t tell my boyfriend that

**Prongs: PLEASE LET ME ANNOUNCE IT AT**

**THE PARTY TONIGHT**

_Padfoot_ : that I had phone sex with moony?

That’s a bit sick, mate.

**Prongs: SHUT UP YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT**

_Padfoot_ : he hasn’t even said yes yet, prongs.

**Prongs: well make sure you ask him because**

**I’m making a fucking toast**

**_________________________________________________________**

He and Remus had stayed up until nearly sunrise, so when Sirius had fallen asleep, he had fallen hard and long. It was practically evening again already, which was fine, because James had invited everyone over to his house that night. Literally, everyone. Not just the Marauders (which included Lily, who practically lived there anyway), but Marlene (and Dorcas), and Alice (and her boyfriend Frank), and a handful of other people that Sirius was sure not to know.

James’ parents were the kind of wealthy people who went to the opera, attended gallery openings, had university halls named after them for the obscene amount of donations they made. They were holding a fundraiser in their home the same night of James’ party. In fact, knowing James’ disdain of formal affairs, they suggested that James throw a party of his own, as long as they kept the noise reasonable and stayed upstairs, for the most part. How they were as wealthy as (or wealthier than) the Black family, but still, somehow, so _kind_ , was something that Sirius couldn’t comprehend, mostly because they were especially kind to Sirius, in particular. They had been there the morning after Sirius’ withdrawals and, before James could even ask, offered up one of their many spare rooms. Sirius had gladly accepted.

Last night had actually been the first night he had stayed in his own flat in several days. Truthfully, he hadn’t intended to stay, especially when he found the heat still out, but he’d run into a particularly rare _need_ yesterday, and he hadn’t been sure how desperately he needed to take care of it. Not really something he wanted to do at James’ house. The more he texted Remus throughout the night, the bigger that need became, until he was bursting with it. 

How he got Remus to agree to that, he would never know. But, _God_ , was Remus really fucking good at it. Not in _any_ of his wildest ideas about Remus could Sirius have imagined the absolutely _pornographic_ things that Remus said to him through the phone. It was a very stark contrast from the boy who had blushed when Sirius said he liked the way Remus tasted.

This was a side of Remus that Sirius hadn’t seen before last night. He’d gotten a glimpse of it when Remus had told him ‘ _the way you say fuck is obscene’_ on the roof, but he couldn’t have predicted the dramatic change he’d heard in Remus’ voice the night before. It was untamed, but almost _professionally_ so, cultivated with precision to get exactly the reaction he was craving. The reaction he was looking for, that he _received_ , was Sirius aching for his voice.

And Sirius had certainly ached. He _still_ ached, just remembering the way Remus had said, in a soft but commanding voice, _‘Come for me, Sirius_ ,’ right after Sirius listened to the sounds of Remus’ orgasm, which Sirius desperately wished he had been able to see.

He was easily lost in the memory of Remus’ voice from last night, describing the way he wanted to taste the differences in Sirius’ skin, the way he would take Sirius into his throat, the way he told Sirius to imagine how Remus would look up at him with his cock between Remus’ lips. Mindlessly, he arched his hips into the mattress, just to get a little friction.

When his mobile started ringing, he barely moved to answer it. He just slid his thumb over the screen and put it to his ear without finding out who was calling, his face still pressed deep into the sheets with the swelling between his legs demanding all of his attention.

“Yes?” he answered, a little short of breath with the thought of Remus still on his mind.

“You sound tired,” a familiar voice spoke through an evident smile, tone still rough with sleep, with the hint of a secret on the edge of every word. Sirius let out a satisfied hum.

“Moony, _hi_ ,” he breathed out into the blankets underneath him. 

“I’m sorry I kept you up so late,” Remus said, but his tone was unapologetic.

“I’m not.” A soft, desperate laugh pressed through his lips. “ _God_ , Moony.”

“Oh, don’t get me started again, Pads,” Remus said in a low growl, the reverberations of his voice through the line sending a shudder down Sirius’ spine. He balled his fist in the sheets.

“You’re one to talk,” Sirius huffed out, lowering his voice as far as it would go. “I think you called me just so I’d have to listen to your voice. You know what it does to me.”

“Do I?” Remus said, an obvious taunt in his tone. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Sirius grinned into the blankets underneath him. “Moony, I was hard before you even called. I _woke up_ hard, just dreaming about all the things you said to me last night.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Remus’ voice went suddenly high and breathy. “Which things, in particular?”

“First you have to tell me something.” A breath pressed from Sirius’ lungs as he turned over in bed, settling deep into the pillow again. “What are you wearing?” Remus laughed loudly.

“Not a damn thing,” he replied in the breath that followed. “What does _that_ do to you?”

“All kinds of things, Moony. _Terrible_ things,” Sirius smiled wide as he listened to Remus’ soft laughter from the other end. “It’s really not very fair, though.”

Remus hummed, it echoed deep into the phone. “What’s not fair?”

“Try as I might, I can’t fully imagine what you’d look like naked. You’ll have to describe it to me in great detail. Leave nothing out.” The laughter remained in Remus’ throat as he replied.

“Maybe tonight you could have a look for yourself,” he suggested with a careful rise in his voice, and Sirius’ chest immediately tightened with worry. Before Sirius could even speak up, Remus was talking again, as he already knew. “Just me. No obligations for you.”

With that thought, Sirius didn’t even have to talk himself down from the panic – he rapidly snapped back into wit and innuendo. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Remus coyly responded with, “What do you think I’m saying?” and Sirius spoke quickly.

“That I can strip you naked while I stay fully clothed.”

“If that’s what you want,” Remus agreed, with the same background softness to his tone that was in everything he said. Even when describing letting Sirius fuck him in the mouth.

“Oh, I …” Sirius started, unsure of what he wanted to say for the first time in a while. “No, that wouldn’t be fai– _really_?” This was starting to sound more and more appealing. Truthfully, who could say what Sirius would do when he got Remus in front of him, absolutely bare.

“Sirius, _yes_ ,” Remus laughed again, breathy and sweet. “Only so I can hold you to that thing you said last night about recognizing my scars by how they feel on your tongue.”

“Hell yes. I’m going to memorize every fucking one of them,” Sirius growled.

“You’d better start studying, then,” Remus said with a tone that sounded playful and calculated all in the same breath, a breath which Remus was obviously working hard to steady.

“Christ, how are you so good at this?” Sirius laughed, becoming a little breathless as he listened to Remus shuffle on the other end, deep sounds being pressed from his lungs.

“Good at what?” Remus followed the laugh with his own.

“Knowing exactly what to say to make me fall in …” His voice faltered as another voice took hold, a voice that sounded a lot like his own. It drifted up from a subconscious depth so far down that the memory of it stiffened his spine. _‘I think I might like to fall in love with you, Moony,_ ’ he had said, but he could pull no clear picture of when exactly he’d said it.

And he’d almost said it again just now – almost told Remus how easily he could fall in love with him, how Remus always knew the things to say to make Sirius fall harder. The most concerning was how _easily_ he had nearly said it. Like he had already admitted it and all that was left was the comfortable repetition of hearing himself say it again.

It was too late to cover for what he almost said, so he started over. “It’s almost cruel, you know. Finding all the things that make me weak and then using them against me.” 

“It’s hardly my fault,” Remus replied with a smirk that was audible. “One of those things is just my normal speaking voice.” Sirius let out an overly loud laugh.

“Is _this_ your normal speaking voice?” Sirius asked, throwing a playfully anxious squeak into his voice. “All this time, I thought you were lowering your voice to fuck with me.”

“No,” Remus replied, and this time, Sirius was sure his voice was deeper, hungrier than it had been only a moment ago. “This is just what my voice sounds like after an orgasm.”

“ _Multiple_ orgasms,” Sirius corrected, shifting his voice down to match Remus’ tone.

“Fuck,” Remus swallowed hard. “I have to go before you get me any harder.”

“Or I could just take care of it for you, if you want.” Sirius felt the smile hiding under his teeth spread over all of his face, twisting his lips and pulling the arch of his eyebrow high.

“Save it for tonight.” Remus exhaled, and Sirius let out a growl that lied somewhere between arousal and frustration. “I’ll still see you tonight, won’t I?”

“Like I would pass on the chance to see you in all your naked glory,” Sirius grinned.

Remus let out an arrogant hum. “Hopefully you’ll see it mostly with your hands.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sirius huffed, and Remus went quiet. “It’ll be with my tongue.”

The sound from Remus’ throat was a whimper, burned out by a growl, as he hung up.

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

From his place in bed, in the very late afternoon, Remus shifted through a painful groan, still feeling a residual sort of tackiness against his skin. The grin that covered his face was deep, stretching muscles he felt like he hadn’t used in decades. He covered his face with the hand that wasn’t still holding his mobile, to stuff some of that smile back in, not ready to let it go.

Last night, he’d listened to the unabashed sounds of his infatuation coming to fruition, to the rises and falls in the key of Sirius’ orgasm. Three fucking times. None of them had been the same as the last. The first one, high and tight and edgy, only cursing and listening. The second, full of want and bliss, with a little more vocalization of what he wanted Remus to say to get him to a blinding climax. By the third, Sirius’ voice was liquid and loose, pooling deep at the base of his throat as he began to elaborate on all he wanted to do to Remus in return.

That was a big enough step on its own. After last night, Remus had told himself he needed to slow things down with Sirius. He didn’t want this to get too heavy too fast and scare Sirius away for good. Had he done that? Fuck no. Instead, he’d offered to let Sirius tear his clothes off and put his tongue on any skin he wanted. The fucking opposite of slowing down.

Still, he wasn’t exactly upset about this development, especially not after how eagerly Sirius had responded to it. The more he thought about it, the more he began to plan how he was going to get Sirius alone in a house full of people, both upstairs and down. After all, James’ parents were hosting some sort of soiree with their rich friends the same night. It didn’t leave a lot of available, empty space where Sirius could strip Remus naked in peace.

Just as he had settled into imagining how Sirius would do it (Would he tear the buttons from Remus’ shirt? Would he unzip Remus’ trousers with his teeth?), Peter knocked and immediately entered without even a pause. Remus adjusted, still naked under the sheets.

“So, you’re still in bed. Late night, then?” Peter asked, a hint of implication in his tone.

“I was grading papers, Pete,” Remus corrected, trying to keep his smile hidden. 

“No extracurricular activities?” Peter grinned sweetly, and Remus matched it.

“No, I came straight home afterward.” Peter narrowed his eyes in Remus’ direction, knowing there was something unsaid, but Remus simply maintained his secret smile.

“You’re smiling an awful lot for not having been with Sirius last night,” Peter said with a slight, frustrated huff in his voice, so Remus figured he’d throw him a line.

“Technically, I was not _with_ Sirius last night.” Peter’s eyes narrowed even further, practically closed. Actually, they might _have_ been closed, he was quiet for some time.

“ _Technically_ ,” Pete emphasized with repetition. Remus shrugged with an indistinct waggle of his head, neither a nod nor a shake. “Are you _trying_ to make it sound scandalous?”

Remus could no longer help himself. “Oh, it was entirely scandalous.” Peter immediately clamped his mouth closed, eyes going a bit wide and knowing as they met Remus’ gaze.

“Moony, you didn’t,” he said with a sly hiss.

“I most certainly did.”

“Wait, we are talking about the same thing, aren’t we?” Pete paused the natural pull of the conversation, holding up his hands and furrowing his eyebrows.

“What do you think we’re talking about?” Remus’ smile curled the corner of his mouth.

“Did you convince Sirius to have phone sex with you?” Pete asked, in a whisper for some reason, even though they were the only people in the flat. Remus whispered back.

“He was the one who did all the convincing.” Pete leaned back so rapidly and so suddenly that Remus thought he had fallen over backward with shock. In fact, Remus nearly jumped up, stark naked and all, to keep Pete from cracking his head open onto the floor. But Pete steadied his balance and refocused his gaze on Remus, who had to make another sheet adjustment.

“You’re doing things all out of order, you know,” Peter smirked, leaning against Remus’ desk with his arms crossed over his belly. A light furrow went into Remus’ brow.

“Doing what out of order?” Pete let out a short laugh, watching Remus squirm.

“You’re supposed to confess your love _after_ you get him off.” The immediate shade of red that thundered through Remus’ skin snaked through his cheeks and poured out over his chest, burning all the way through. That smirk on Peter’s lips only grew.

“Fuck you,” Remus laughed, burying his face in his hands. “He was practically dying.”

“Does he remember it?” Pete asked, his voice going a little bit soft, the way it did when he was coaxing Remus to talk. Remus glanced up, eyelashes brushing against fingertips.

“If he does, he hasn’t mentioned it.”

“Technically, he said it first,” Pete shrugged, still smiling, still leaning against the desk.

“Technically,” Remus smiled back, reaching out to push Pete off the desk. “Now get out so I can get dressed.” As Pete stumbled toward the door, he looked back with a shrewd grin.

“I think Sirius might prefer if you show up as is,” he said, literal tongue in cheek.

“I think he’d prefer to get me _‘as is’_ himself,” Remus quipped back. Pete widened his eyes comically, waggling his eyebrows as he leaned on the edge of Remus’ door.

“Sounds like you’ve discussed it already.” His gaze softened, the same way his voice had only a moment ago, in that Trademark-Peter-Pettigrew way, when he knew there was something significant that was about to be discussed. But he always let Remus lead him in.

“You know we have a system,” Remus said, burrowing down into his blankets again, murmuring into the pillow as his face sunk further into it.

“I know,” Pete replied, a tinge of hesitance in his voice indicating he wasn’t completely satisfied enough to call this the resolution of the conversation.

“We’re at Bronze, I think. He knows to lead,” Remus assured him, pushing the longer curls from his face as he propped himself up on one elbow. “Besides, I told him he was exempt.”

“Exempt?” Pete asked, tilting his head slightly.

Pink swept over Remus’ cheeks. “Exempt from, uh … disrobing.” In a snap, the expression on Peter’s face changed from mild concern to full-tilt enthusiasm.

“Wait, you meant _tonight_?” he squeaked, leaning so heavily on the door that it swung him back into the room. “There’s a plan for disrobing _tonight_?”

“Just for me.” The pink in his cheeks blossomed into a searing fuchsia.

“Oh, he’s _exempt_ ,” Peter repeated, watching Remus carefully. “Holy shit, Moony.” He let out a breath, his gaze going mushy again. “Looks like he’s as good for you as you are for him.”

“You’ve no idea,” Remus laughed, but he paused. “Hang on, what do you mean?”

“Remus.” The delicate, careful tone returned to Pete’s voice. “It took you months to get used to the idea of _me_ seeing you without a shirt, even. You’re protective of those scars.”

A subtle smile curled the corner of Remus’ mouth. “You didn’t offer to memorize them with your mouth, Pete.” Everything on Peter’s face became exaggerated – eyes wide with amusement, grin pulled up to his ears, eyebrows rising into his blonde hairline.

“Yep, that’ll do it,” Pete laughed loudly as he walked from the room. “Now, hurry up and put your fucking pants on. Prongs is texting me already, saying we should be there by now.”

“Is he our mother?” Remus groaned. “He treats us like he’s our mother.”

“The sooner we leave, the sooner you can see Padfoot,” Pete called in a sing-song voice as he walked from the room, leaving the door wide open. Remus pretended to brood but was unable to keep the smile from his face as he gathered the sheets and shuffled to the door.

“I hate you sometimes,” he shouted down the hall with a laugh before he shut the door.

“No, you don’t!” Pete sang back. The smile on Remus’ face deepened.

By the time they made it to James’ house, most of those invited had already shown up and half of them were already half-drunk. Even Alice was already there – Remus spent some time catching up with her, as he hadn’t been to group since Sirius had gone with him. Of course, they’d said a few things through text, but most of it was about Sirius and the majority of that had nothing to do with therapy at all. Mostly, they talked about how crazy Remus was over him.

Alice introduced her boyfriend, Frank, and Remus was a little less than thrilled to find out it was the dark-haired kid who had called him out at group. However, before Remus could even give his name, unsure if the bloke even remembered him, Frank took his hand briskly, stumbling through a string of apologies. As Frank buried himself under a mountain of explanations, Alice stood watching, eyes flicking back and forth over an amused grin. Turns out, Frank wasn’t so bad.

There felt like a hundred other people there – James dragged Remus all over the room to introduce him to _all_ of them, and Remus didn’t remember a single one of their names. At some point, Marlene was suddenly there, with Lily, and Remus immediately went to ask about Sirius, who was still conspicuously absent from this party. His concerns grew exponentially when Marlene mentioned that she thought he was already there. With hands shaking, he pulled his mobile from his back pocket, quickly finding a secluded corner where he could send a text.

The message under his thumbs was composed and recomposed several times, afraid it sounded too paranoid, too desperate, too suffocating. Before he could hit send on the final draft, a hand pressed to the wall close to his face, a shadow covering the screen of his mobile.

“Come here often?” The familiar voice lowered deep to drive a very specific shiver down Remus’ spine. It resonated against the wood grain, it vibrated out against Remus’ skin. With a hidden smile, Remus didn’t allow himself to look up right away, knowing the need it would incite.

“Oh, quite often,” he said, slipping his mobile into his back pocket before finally glancing up through his lashes, without raising his head. His reward was a slight unsettling in the cultivated smile on Sirius’ pink lips and a stimulated rise in his dark, high-arching brow. “See, there’s this cute bloke who hangs around and I’m trying to catch his eye.” The silver in Sirius’ eyes swirled so chaotically, it looked like it may spill over into his dark, wide pupils.

“Tell me about this bloke,” he said, moving in to press Remus _just_ against the wall, his eyes traveling down to Remus’ lips. Remus darted out his tongue to watch Sirius follow it.

Under a cunning smile, Remus dove into describing his favourite sight. “He’s got dark hair, keeps it tied up most of the time.” Sirius’ hands had found their way to Remus’ hips. “Skin so pale, you can follow the veins in his wrist all the way up to his throat.” Carefully, Remus reached up, holding steady at the curve of Sirius’ jaw, waiting for his approval. A purposeful tilt of Sirius’ head put Sirius’ face into Remus’ hand, so Remus drove his touch forward.

Knowing the way Sirius responded to his voice, Remus continued, dropping his volume and tone, sending it deep into the hollows of his throat. “He wears this tattered pair of black jeans, faded and full of holes, but his arse looks _fantastic_ in them.” Sirius stifled a laugh.

“He sounds like a prat,” Sirius grinned, watching Remus to see if he would agree.

“Then I’ve been describing him all wrong,” Remus returned, pressing his forehead to Sirius’, with his hand slipping around the back of Sirius’ neck. “Because he is, by far, the best thing that has ever happened to me.” As a rose blush splashed across Sirius’ cheeks, Remus delicately parted Sirius’ lips with his own, a soft kiss quickly evolving into depth and hunger.

“I don’t think he deserves you,” Sirius breathed out in the space between their mouths.

“No, he deserves _everything_ ,” Remus argued, his movements becoming a little more uncontrolled, the more of Sirius he tasted on his tongue. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be enough to give it to him, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try.” A soft whimper bubbled up from Sirius’ lips.

“ _You’re_ all I want, Moony. Not a thing more.” Sirius’ words rushed out, interrupted by the eager clashing of lips and teeth, muffled by their capture in another throat. Just as Remus had begun to pull Sirius close, feeling the tension in Sirius’ back loosening as the spread of Sirius’ hands began to search for bare skin, the nearby clearing of a throat intruded.

“You two realize this is a _party_ ,” James said, as Sirius and Remus both looked over, neither of them distracted enough to fully disengage from their kiss. “You can’t spend the whole evening snogging each other in a dark corner.” In reply, Sirius turned back to Remus, kissing him even more voraciously. Complying fully, Remus let out an overly salacious moan.

“Is that a challenge, Prongs?” Sirius asked, through blatantly burying his tongue into Remus’ mouth, which Remus tried to tone down, but only slightly.

“Oh, come on,” James groaned. “You don’t see me and Lily mauling each other in public.”

“That’s because you’re a prude,” Remus mumbled from Sirius’ mouth.

“That’s because you’re _straight_ ,” Sirius corrected with a laugh that he quickly cut off in order to devour the subsequent laugh that escaped from Remus’ lips.

“Please?” James begged. Sirius separated his mouth from Remus’, but nothing else.

“ _Alright_.” Sirius let out such a feral growl that Remus felt the echo of it somewhere in the pit of his stomach, in the pool of heat that flooded down into his hips. He flexed his hand on the back of Sirius’ neck and when Sirius looked over, Remus let his eyes scatter devoutly over Sirius’ face, under a sharply raised brow. The look in Sirius’ eyes went dark as he breathed in briskly.

“Tell Moony to stop looking at me like that, Prongs, or you’ll never get me away from him.” His breathing went stilted, his hands gripping insistently onto Remus’ hips.

“Moony, pleeeease,” James whined, tugging on Remus’ shirtsleeve. With a frustrated growl of his own, Remus let his head fall back against the wall behind him.

“Fine,” he conceded reluctantly, and James took them both by the hand to pull them back into the open space of the room. At the unexpected touch to Sirius’ wrist, Remus looked over nervously to find Sirius was already looking back at him, but the expression on Sirius’ face wasn’t panicked or uncomfortable. He was smiling. And it was fucking _beautiful_.

By only a few drinks in, Sirius had somehow convinced Remus to dance with him, in the middle of a crowd of strangers all doing the same. As far as Remus knew, Sirius didn’t know a single one of them. With Remus’ hands around his waist, a belly full of whiskey, and a cigarette between his teeth, Sirius didn’t flinch at every stray touch that landed on his shoulder or his back or his hip. In fact, he didn’t flinch at _any_ of them. And there were a lot of them.

Somehow, Sirius had convinced James to put on classic rock and he bounced and swayed with Remus to Bowie and Fleetwood Mac and Springsteen. Hell, he’d even danced to a few songs by Hall & Oates. While Remus tried to keep up, he couldn’t help but pause in total awe of this side of Sirius, this _true_ Sirius who had been stifled for so long. This Sirius laughed loudly and without reluctance, he hugged his friends full and strong, he kissed Remus brazenly, like he’d kissed him a thousand times, but somehow also delicately, like it was the first time, every time.

A dozen Queen songs came on in a row and Sirius danced to all of them, praising James for accommodating him and forcing him to dance with Sirius to _Don’t Stop Me Now_. For only a moment, Remus had been waiting, watching with unconcealed adoration as Sirius, who only a few weeks before had violently recoiled at any physical contact, pulled James to his chest in some bizarre adaptation of a tango, he and James cheek to cheek, as the party goers cheered.

Cigarette between his teeth, Remus leaned his head back against the wall, blowing a chest full of smoke above the heads of those dancing in front of him. Just as the soft guitar of the next song plucked out over the speakers, Remus felt Sirius’ fingers slip into his.

When Remus looked down into Sirius’ face, flushed pink from moving in ways he may not have moved in years, smiling broader than Remus had ever seen, sterling eyes still swirling in residual waves, an ache surged into the chambers of Remus’ heart, as pleasant as it was painful. It stormed in with the blood and sinew and took residence there, sending out dangerous tendrils into his lungs until he couldn’t breathe, and into his muscles until he couldn’t move.

When Sirius parted his pliant lips to sing, holy and sweet, those vines pulsed and pounded with a terminal devotion that had Remus struggling to realize he had ever existed in any moment except this one. Sirius Black singing softly into his ear, smiling all the while.

“You say you love me, and I hardly know your name,” Sirius sang with a secret smirk, pulling Remus’ folded hands to his chest, craning down to kiss Remus’ knuckles. It had Remus entranced – the subtle movement of Sirius’ lips, the warmth of his breath, the cadence of his voice, the pink of Sirius’ lips matched to the pink of the scars on Remus’ hands.

The song went on without Sirius’ accompaniment, he had gone quiet with his lips to Remus’ skin. With his fingers still wrapped around Remus’ hands, pressed tight to his chest, Sirius traced the old, winding wound that wrapped around Remus’ thumb, turning Remus’ hand to follow it into his palm. As the scar tapered off, Sirius’ touch migrated to the natural lines of Remus’ hands and the lyric returned to Sirius’ throat, but in a starkly different tone.

“Oh, how I could love you,” he said, hardly even a melody in his hollow voice at all. “If I could let you stay.” The tendrils coiled around Remus’ chest went sharp, thorns biting into the nerves that controlled his expression, and it went slack and dropped, much like his heart.

 _It’s late_. The song went on without Sirius again, who was keeping his eyes very pointedly away from Remus just then. _And I’m bleeding deep inside._ The movement of Sirius’ finger within his palm had died – Sirius stood stone still, eyes locked on Remus’ hand, still in his own.

To calm the screaming and gnashing within his chest, Remus took the cigarette from his lips and took Sirius’ hands into his own, holding them to his chest. Cigarette still between his fingers, he held them underneath Sirius’ chin, coaxing him to look up at him. And he sang. 

“It’s late, it’s late, it’s late,” Remus hummed, as the worry slowly washed from Sirius’ shadowed eyes and his hands spread out onto Remus’ chest. “But not too late.”

The smile that crept out from Sirius’ guarded lips ushered in the unraveling of the strangling ivy that had taken root in Remus’ ribs. The widening of Sirius’ smile led away the tension in a singular pattern, until Remus’ heart was beating out his name. Padfoot. _Padfoot._

“Moony, I –” Sirius breathed out, still looking up at him under a liquid gaze, and Remus had never wanted Sirius to kiss him so badly. Gently, he pulled Sirius in, and Sirius let his hands drift up over Remus’ chest to close around the back of his neck.

The scent of cheap whiskey and nicotine was on his breath, a remnant of Lily’s floral perfume buried in the depths of his hair, now only half tied-up. Vaguely, Remus knew to slip his hand down Sirius’ shoulder, moving his cigarette away from what could catch fire.

But there was fire everywhere – it was in the heat of Sirius’ skin underneath Remus’ hands, it was smoldering in Sirius’ gaze, stoked so high that the flames burned white. It was in the way Sirius tiptoed to reach Remus’ lips with his own, arching his hips into Remus’ as he moved. It was in the unexpected breath that Remus took in with Sirius’ searing tongue.

“ _Pads_.” He hadn’t intended to make Sirius’ name sound so scandalous on his lips, but it came out like a curse word, like something you would never say among mixed company. The depth and rhythm of Sirius’ kiss increased in kind, just as scandalous, and he pressed his hips further into Remus’ until Remus could _feel_ him against his thigh, on the verge of rigid.

Before he could say more, James (who apparently wouldn’t recognize an uninterruptible moment if it bit him in the arse), pulled Sirius abruptly away, back to dance again. There was apology in Sirius’ glance, but still a smile, so Remus shrugged it off, escaping to the secluded balcony to cool off, finish his cigarette, and plot imaginative ways to get Sirius to himself. 

Besides, it was fun to watch Sirius from a distance. The unguarded way he smiled at James, the waves of dark hair slipping down over his platinum gaze, the sway of his slender hips in time to the rhythm of the music. Every now and then, he would move just right, and the hem of his shirt rose just right, gifting Remus with a glimpse of pale skin and sharp bones, just above the waist of his dark jeans. The drag on Remus’ cigarette was so deep, it spread into the filter.

At some point, Peter found him. Pete was right on that border between _just-drunk-enough_ and _too-drunk_ , where he tended to get a little weepy. More than once, he told Remus that he loved him, the last time going right into a monologue about how lucky Sirius was because Remus was such a catch. How he was handsome and clever and wonderful. Remus just listened in total amusement, nodding as often as Pete looked over, until Lily came to the rescue.

“Don’t worry, I’ve cut him off,” she said with a knowing smile, slipping herself underneath Peter’s arm to keep him a little more upright. Remus pulled his lips into his teeth.

“I’m sorry you’re on babysitting duty tonight,” he laughed, but she just shrugged.

“No place I’d rather be than with my four favourite weirdos,” she replied with a tilt of her head and a grin that took up half her face, leading Pete back into the party. At the same moment, Remus’ mobile vibrated in his pocket. It was a message from Sirius. Just one word.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Padfoot: Gold.**

**_________________________________________________________**

Immediately, Remus looked up, swallowing hard through a mass of warmth that was slowly working up his throat, and he found Sirius’ gaze from across the room. The slight smile on Sirius’ face was one that Remus couldn’t define in vocabulary but didn’t need to. When Sirius nodded back toward the door, leading him out from a distance, Remus raced to follow.

By the time Remus made it to the hallway, Sirius had already slipped into his room, the room in James’ house that James saved for him when Sirius needed a place to stay, the room that Remus had stayed in the first time Sirius admitted that he _needed_ him. As Remus pushed open the door, he was greeted by Sirius standing in the center of the room, a song that Remus recognized playing from Sirius’ mobile on the nightstand. As Remus fell softly against the door, pushing it closed, Sirius gave him a comfortable smile, holding his hands out at his sides.

“Are you sure?” Remus asked, his voice a little throaty from how dry it suddenly was, how much air was moving rapidly in and out of his chest, blowing through his vocal cords.

“You’re the only thing I’m ever sure of, Moony,” he replied calmly, not even an uncertain waver in his voice as he raised his head to the ceiling, arms still out at his sides. “Now get over here and touch me before I lose my fucking mind.” A careful laugh slipped from Remus’ lips.

“I think you already have,” he said, taking a step in, hands shifting nervously at his sides as he raised them, hovering over the fabric covering Sirius’ skin. “Anywhere?”

Sirius still had his head raised, his eyes closed. “I know where I’d like you to start, but yes, Moony. Anywhere.” A clench went into Remus’ fist and in his throat and in his hips.

“Maybe …” Remus started, curving his hand around Sirius’ throat, to which Sirius heavily leaned into with a deep sigh, “Maybe you should … _tell me_ where you’d like me to start.” As Remus moved in close, he slid his cheekbone along the underside of Sirius’ jaw, letting his lips brush lightly against the soft, pale skin of Sirius’ throat underneath them. Sirius took a breath.

“Oh, here’s good,” he laughed softly. The other of Remus’ hands hesitantly slipped up underneath the hem of Sirius’ shirt, his thumb swirling delicate circles around Sirius’ gaunt hipbone before pressing into the soft skin just inside it. Sirius leaned further back, the curves of his throat becoming a sharp landscape for Remus’ mouth, and he let out a very weighted breath, his hips arching forward for friction. “Here is _very_ good,” he groaned, the depth of his tone vibrating out underneath Remus’ lips as they traversed the hills and valleys of Sirius’ throat.

With the full expanse of Sirius’ bare waist available to the touch of his hands, Remus let himself get lost in the softness and compliance of Sirius’ skin, in the warm thrum of blood rushing underneath the pallid surface, in the taste of Sirius on his tongue. The liquor in his belly and the high of _feeling_ Sirius for the first time sent a desperate, manic energy into Remus’ chest, and he couldn’t get Sirius close enough, couldn’t taste him deeply enough.

His grip on Sirius’ neck increased, he bared his teeth against Sirius’ collarbone, biting down softly, eliciting a quiet, staggered pull of breath through Sirius’ teeth. With no concern for delicacy or caution, Remus’ fingers, pressed tight to Sirius’ hip, brushed roughly over the waist of Sirius’ jeans, tucking into the fabric underneath the button. Though it was subtle, Sirius flinched.

Of course, Remus pulled back quickly, apology primed on his anxious tongue, but Sirius was ready for it. He knotted his fists into Remus’ shirt and pulled him back in, face first.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he exhaled, warning in his voice as he slipped his tongue into Remus’ mouth.

“No, I _felt_ that, Sirius,” Remus replied, through the obviously overcompensated kiss that Sirius was drowning him in while guiding Remus’ hands back underneath his shirt.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want it,” Sirius growled, irritation in his voice, but Remus knew it wasn’t directed at him. Finally, Sirius paused, letting out a breath. “I _want_ it, Moony.”

“I know,” Remus said, pulling back suddenly, much to the disapproval of Sirius, but the confusion in his expression rapidly changed into delight as he realized that Remus was unbuttoning his own shirt. Head lowered, Remus glanced up, through lashes and curls, with a suggestive smirk. “But I made you a promise. Maybe we could start with that.”

“That’s right, you did,” Sirius grinned, putting his hands over Remus’ to stop their movement, watching Remus closely. “We could definitely start with that.” His voice lowered to a near whisper as he unfastened the next button of Remus’ shirt, halfway down his chest.

“Kiss me,” Remus said, his tone a little more demanding than he intended, but Sirius responded readily to it, leaping forward to claim Remus’ mouth with his own. With his tongue in Remus’ mouth, he curled his fingers into the open neck of Remus’ shirt, pulling him back toward the bed. “ _Padfoot_.” Remus tried to put caution into his voice, but it just came out wanting.

“You wanted me to lead, I’m leading,” Sirius quipped with a smile, pushing Remus down onto the end of the bed, one of Sirius’ knees sinking into the mattress next to him as Sirius craned over to keep his lips to Remus’. Moving his fingers from the buttons of Remus’ shirt, Sirius held his palm flat against Remus’ chest to coax him into lying back, and Remus was absolutely ready to obey, watching Sirius with rapt attention.

Sirius spread his fingers out underneath the open collar of Remus’ shirt, his eyes scattering over bare skin that he hadn’t seen in weeks, not since that night on the roof. His fingers trailed down the very center of Remus’ chest, where a few remaining buttons kept him from touching every inch of Remus’ skin, and he quickly began remedying that problem.

With the next button open, Sirius leaned in, rewarding Remus with a single, tender kiss before working his lips across Remus’ face and down his throat. The touch of Sirius’ fingertips dipped over Remus’ belly button, sending an unexpected shiver through Remus’ shoulders, down his spine, as the last button unfastened. Sirius straightened to see the work of his hands, swallowing hard as his eyes danced across Remus’ skin, seeing scars he’d never seen. 

As Sirius’ fingers slipped underneath the seam of Remus’ shirt and slid along Remus’ stomach, up to his ribs, Remus let out a slow, staggered breath, unable to stop the way he arched up into Sirius’ touch. At this response, what could only be described as a growl clawed up from Sirius’ throat, and Sirius climbed over Remus on the bed, reuniting their mouths.

Without letting his lips stray from Sirius’, Remus slowly shifted further onto the bed until Sirius was lying over him, but Sirius didn’t stay. His lips wandered down Remus’ neck, across his chest, his kisses growing wilder and wetter and warmer as Sirius spent ample time moving from one scar to the next, making good on his promise to memorize them with his tongue.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Remus moaned deeply before he could stop himself, writhing against the warmth and pressure and, _oh God,_ the _bite_ of Sirius’ mouth. While this was exactly what they had agreed on that morning, Remus had pictured a much more clinical scenario. He imagined Sirius calm and disconnected from it, methodically removing the fabric from Remus’ skin one layer at a time until _Remus_ was the one falling apart. This wasn’t like that at all.

No, Sirius’ grip on Remus’ skin was tight and desperate, the movement of his mouth chaotic and hungry, his breathing erratically pulsing out against Remus’ skin. Every press of his lips sunk deeper, scattering purple marks like iris petals in the wake of his mouth.

“Pads, wait,” Remus swallowed, afraid he would let Sirius go further than he was ready.

Without removing his lips from Remus’ skin, Sirius mumbled, “I’m tired of being afraid of you, Moony. Being afraid of what I want from you.” His kiss migrated down Remus’ waist, settling hot over Remus’ hipbone, his tongue tracing the circular scar it had found there.

“Sirius, _please_ ,” Remus begged, panting, driving a trembling hand into his own hair, to keep it from being buried within Sirius’, knowing how resolutely he wanted to wrap his fingers up in it. With Sirius’ mouth at Remus’ hipbone, the sharp edges of Sirius’ throat pressed hard against the already aching, pulsing skin straining against Remus’ zipper.

Finally, Sirius glanced up, pulling his bottom lip into his teeth and biting down hard, in his eyes a line of silver around wide, turbid pupils. Without taking his eyes off Remus, eyebrow twitching with anticipation, he tucked his fingertips into the dark denim covering Remus’ hips.

“Do you _want_ me to stop?” Sirius asked. It was almost a dare. Remus could feel the vibrations of Sirius’ voice echo out between his legs. He answered honestly, a quiver in his tone.

“I don’t want you to hate me tomorrow.” Sirius’ expression softened, he leaned up for a moment to show Remus that he was listening, before taking in and letting out a deep breath. 

“Do you think you’re taking advantage of me?” Remus winced. _Was_ he?

“We’re both drunk and I’m really … I don’t want you to think that I –” Sirius interrupted.

“Neither of us is that drunk,” Sirius argued immediately, swallowing hard as his gaze dispersed over Remus’ bare skin, taking in each of his numerous scars. “I’ve had _just_ enough whiskey to kill the arsehole in my brain that keeps me from you.” Remus’ breath caught.

“I don’t want to push this on you, Sirius,” Remus said, injecting a little more volume into his voice, a little more warning. If he lost Sirius completely because of _one_ stupid, drunken night when he wasn’t able to maintain control, he’d never forgive himself.

“I’m the one who has you half undressed, Moony,” Sirius said, with what was almost an arrogant smile on his face. “It should be obvious want I want.” Another argument was on the tip of Remus’ tongue, but the tip of Sirius’ tongue went back to Remus’ skin. He looked up at Remus with a defiantly raised brow as he dragged his tongue along a vicious scar that ran parallel between Remus’ hip bones. Every muscle underneath his tongue tensed.

“Oh, _God_ ,” Remus exhaled hard. “You’ll stop if it gets too much?” With an approving hum, Sirius traced the jagged point of a scar that stretched up just past the waist of Remus’ trousers, letting his finger slip ever so slightly into the black elastic of Remus’ boxers. Biting down on his lip, he tugged slightly at the fabric, pulling another breath from Remus’ lungs.

“How far does this one go?” Sirius asked, keeping his leaden gaze locked onto Remus as he pressed his open lips, tongue first, to the scar in question.

Remus swallowed. “All the way down.” The resultant expression in Sirius’ eyes was, at first, a sorrowful sort of ache at the existence of a scar so brutal, but he wiped it away, replacing it with a volatile curiosity that spread with the rise of both his eyebrows.

“This morning,” Sirius said suddenly, fingering the elastic as his chest heaved. “Did you mean it?” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Remus, waiting for some sign of untruth.

“Every word,” Remus confirmed quietly. “I’m at your mercy, Sirius.” An untamed snarl instantly went into Sirius’ lips as he clenched his teeth, and his fist, pulling impatiently at the denim keeping him from burying his face into Remus’ bare hips.

“You’re doing that thing again.” Sirius’ voice dropped to a reverent whisper as his fingers ghosted over to the button of Remus’ trousers. A hard swallow caught in Remus’ throat.

“What thing is that?” he asked absently, gaze trapped at the motion of Sirius’ hands.

“I think I have you figured out, Moony,” Sirius seemed to avoid the question, peppering fluid, open kisses deep into the soft skin at Remus’ abdomen. His body curved with dedicated purpose against Remus’ leg – Remus could feel the ample, straining imprint of him with every rhythmic roll of his hips. “Everyone thinks you’re quiet and well-behaved and delicate.”

A cocky smirk splashed over Remus’ lips. “Am I not?” As the button of Remus’ jeans opened with a soft snap, Sirius glanced up through his dark eyelashes, dangerous incitement in his eyes, hollowed out by blown pupils, perfectly framed by choppy waves of dark hair.

“Oh, not even _close_ , darling,” Sirius crooned, splaying open the front of Remus’ trousers while specifically avoiding even a single brush against the erect skin _so_ close to his fingertips. In impatience, Remus arched his hips up for any sort of friction, but Sirius slipped his hand up to Remus’ chest to settle him. A knowing smile appeared on his lips. “This is what I mean.”

“Then tell me,” Remus provoked him, pushing a heavy, indecorous breath from his lungs that sounded strangled. “Tell me what I really am, Sirius.” The silver in Sirius’ eyes flashed white.

“For starters, you’re certainly not quiet.” The smile remained on his face as his hands slipped into the borders of Remus’ jeans, on either hip, still keeping his touch away from where Remus really needed it. “When you know what you want, you’re not quiet about it.”

“Is that so?” Remus remarked, a desperate edge in his voice as he lifted his hips to let Sirius work him out of his trousers. Once Remus was down to boxer-briefs, Sirius allowed himself a long, dedicated look at every new piece of him before nestling down between Remus’ legs and finding that other end of the scar that ran all the way down the inside of Remus’ leg.

“Mm,” Sirius agreed wordlessly, pushing Remus’ leg out to the side so he could place his mouth over that scar inside Remus’ thigh, just underneath the hem of his briefs. A stunted growl tore from Remus’ lips as his hand went straight into Sirius’ hair. “You’re not quiet now, are you?”

“ _No_ ,” Remus squirmed as Sirius pushed up on the fabric border with his nose, moving up Remus’ thigh with his mouth, kissing and biting and pulling more sound from Remus’ lungs.

“And well-behaved?” he mouthed hot against Remus’ skin, the hand in his hair curling tighter. “If only they knew the things you said to me on the phone last night.”

“What _did_ I say, Sirius?” he asked, a taunt buried deep in his throat, a demand for repetition. “What was your favourite part?” Sirius let his hands slide up Remus’ hips, watching Remus fall further apart underneath them. He let one hover over Remus’ cock, twitching.

Silver eyes cast up, lips parted slightly, Remus sucked in a breath through his teeth at the sedition in Sirius’ gaze. “Listening to you come as you imagined me fucking you in the mouth.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Remus groaned loudly, letting his head tilt back for only a moment, not wanting to take his eyes off Sirius. When his gaze returned, Sirius let the very tips of his fingers graze along the most swollen crest of Remus’ cock, still hidden under tight fabric. “ ** _Fuck_** ,” Remus repeated through clenched teeth, with stuttered breath and an evident whine in his tone.

“And I would never call you delicate,” Sirius continued, with only a slight waver in his voice as he gently pulled at the elastic keeping Remus hidden. When only Remus’ bare hip was exposed, Sirius put his mouth on it, rocking his own hips into Remus’ leg in rhythmic swells.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” Remus’ voice rose far above a whisper.

“You’re tender with other people, with _me_ , but you’re not delicate.” He moved his kiss inward, grating against Remus’ pulsing length with the stubble of his cheek, and Remus’ fist tightened. He watched the muscles of Sirius’ throat tense as Remus pulled at his hair, but for the first time, Sirius didn’t flinch. “I don’t think you want _me_ to be delicate right now either, do you, Remus?” With his tongue dragging up Remus’ hipbone, Sirius slid a trembling hand down the full length of Remus’ cock, dragging a delirious, erratic sound from the depths of Remus’ throat.

“No, fuck, I really don’t.” His voice was stretched, rasping. “Fucking _ruin_ me, Sirius.”

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius’ voice cracked in desperation as he ground his hips hard into Remus’ calf, devouring the skin under his teeth. “Fuck, _fuck_.” The moment he pulled back, his mouth lingering hot and wet above Remus’ throbbing cock, a furious knock came to the bedroom door.

An immediate, irritated growl drew up from Remus’ throat. “What the **fuck**.”

“Fuck off!” Sirius shouted, watching Remus devotedly as he leaned in, wrapping open lips around the shaft of Remus’ erection, still tucked away and thrumming with anticipation.

“ _Shit_ ,” Remus hissed, balling a fist into the sheets underneath him. “Sirius, _please, God_.”

A rise shot into Sirius’ brow. “You told me to _ruin_ you. Your words.”

“That was before we had an audience,” Remus said, letting out a slow, faltering breath as Sirius pushed himself up, his hands on either side of Remus’ waist.

“Moony!” James shouted from the other side of the door. “Get decent! I need you!” This time, Sirius was the one to let out an angry breath, it lurched out from his lips. “It’s Pete!” With a loud, throaty groan, Remus threw his head back before looking apologetically at Sirius.

“Any qualms about your best mate seeing you rather …” Sirius glanced down, swallowing deep at the tight impression of Remus’ cock against the fabric, “hard up?”

“A few,” Remus said, wrinkling his nose. “Talk me down.” Sirius shifted, but only to kneel over him, using his tongue to coax Remus’ mouth open, slipping it inside only for a moment.

“Cold shower,” Sirius whispered, but his proximity to Remus’ ear led him to placing his lips against it, and then against Remus’ jaw, and then to Remus’ neck. “The Queen, naked.”

“I really must tell you, this is _not_ working,” Remus laughed pitifully.

“Oh, you fancy Her Majesty? Moony, I’m _scandalized_.” Finally, Remus turned, thrusting his lips to Sirius’, sliding his tongue deep into Sirius’ mouth. When Sirius responded with a delighted hum, Remus steadied Sirius against him and flipped him over onto the mattress, with a surprised, stimulated groan slipping from Sirius’ lungs. He looked up at Remus with a telling and tameless expression, breathless, chest heaving profoundly. “ _Jesus_ , Remus.”

“Don’t do anything without me,” Remus leaned in, to breathe heavy into his ear, settling his teeth gently over Sirius’ earlobe. Sirius craned his head to let Remus’ lips spread. 

“How can I?” Sirius hummed. “You’re taking everything I want with you.”

“I promise to bring it all back.” Remus let his voice drop low as he nestled down between Sirius’ legs to feel Sirius’ cock, hard and aching against his own.

“ _Oh_ ,” Sirius whispered, voice quivering in his throat, void of breath as Remus rocked against him. “Oh, _fuck_.” What was meant to be a tease quickly escalated as Remus lost himself in the way Sirius spread his legs further to let Remus’ hips sink hard against his, how his fingernails dug hungrily into Remus’ bare skin, how his teeth bore into the closest skin it could reach.

“Fuck. I had no idea you would enjoy Gold this much,” Remus panted, tilting his head until his mouth found Sirius’ again, forgetting James on the other side of the door.

“We’ve barely even gotten to Gold, Moony,” Sirius whispered, shifting to wrap his legs around Remus’ hips and licking into Remus’ mouth, as a moan found its way out of it. Roughly, Remus leapt forward to take Sirius’ tongue further down, positioning his hips to slide his cock slowly along the full length of Sirius, eliciting a shameless and rich gasping from Sirius’ throat. 

Just as quickly, Remus pulled away, craning down to place a tender kiss to Sirius’ nose, as his mouth was hanging open in residual ecstasy. With Remus removed, Sirius’ eyes shot open.

“Good luck coming down from that,” Remus smirked as he pushed himself up from the bed and, while Sirius didn’t move an inch, his eyes narrowed in Remus’ direction, jaw clenched.

“You bastard,” Sirius hissed, biting down hard onto his tongue. Just then, James began knocking again, louder and more insistent, apparently with both hands.

“Padfoot!” James yelled. “Get Moony’s tongue out of your mouth, I need him!” A dramatic snarl went into Sirius’ lip, curling up over tightly clenched canines.

“I won’t be long,” Remus winked as he got dressed, taking a moment to adjust himself quite explicitly before pulling on his trousers, enjoying the fanatical way Sirius watched. In fact, he left them spread open around his hips as he pulled on his shirt just to let Sirius ogle him.

Working on the buttons of his shirt, he looked up at Sirius, expecting to see lust and haste in his expression, but Sirius wasn’t focused on his bare skin. His eyes, veiled in some emotion that Remus couldn’t name, were on Remus’ face, a maudlin smile held behind his lips. It stalled the motion of Remus’ hands but sent the pace of his heart racing on.

“Before you go,” Sirius said with a short breath, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling Remus over to him by the still-open tails of his shirt. For a moment, he was quiet, rolling the hem of Remus’ shirt between his fingers. His eyes trailed over the scars on Remus’ abdomen, landing on a parallel set of three wounds, carved out by a hand cultivator. As he used his fingers to follow those scars, he looked up, eyes contracting anxiously. “Let me be your boyfriend.”

The quiet, expectant smile that had been on Remus’ face bloomed without pretense, diffusing like spilled ink, rose and red across his face until he was beaming madly.

“I thought you already were,” Remus grinned, biting delicately onto his bottom lip as Sirius mindlessly slid his hands around the curves of Remus’ waist.

“ _Moony_!” James shouted again, knocking evolved into pounding. Sirius let out an angry yell, moving back to button Remus’ shirt. “I _know_ Sirius is distracting but hurry the fuck up!”

“Jesus, Prongs, I’m _coming_!” Remus yelled, grit at the base of his throat.

“Tell James I’m going to kill him,” Sirius growled as he sprawled himself back across the mattress. Remus took one last, long look at him before he went to the door, shifting his hips to try to relieve some of the tension the unforgiving denim exerted on his crotch. With a shrewd grin, James stood in the doorway with raised eyebrows, glancing down to where Remus was still trying to pull an overly strained zipper over skin that was aching to be uncovered.

“We’re both going to kill you,” Remus stated bluntly with an empty smile.

“If you’re going to kill anyone, it should be Pete,” he said, leaning in to wave at Sirius, who gave him the finger in return. “He’s drunk arse over tit, thinks you’re hiding from him.”

“Don’t tell me.” Remus finished buttoning the top buttons of his shirt “He’s downstairs.”

“He thinks you’re disguised as one of my parents’ guests,” James groaned, palming his forehead as they made their way down the stairs. Remus was still trying to talk himself down.

“Let’s make this quick,” Remus grumbled, rolling his shoulders in some effort to convince the rest of his body into easing off. It wasn’t working well. Shit, it wasn’t working _at all_.

“Exactly how much did I interrupt?” James nudged Remus’ elbow, suggestively waggling his eyebrows. With every intention of rolling his eyes, his expression made other plans for him as he felt a cocky smirk spread over his lips to match the arrogant rise of his brow.

“Let’s just say you’re lucky I didn’t come to the door _as is_ ,” Remus mumbled under his breath, plastering on his public smile as they weaved in and out of aristocrats in formal wear.

“Good thing I didn’t wait any longer, then,” James snickered, mimicking the posh expressions of the uptight visitors that were starting to take notice of their presence. “You’re already dreadfully disheveled, Master Lupin,” James mocked in his best upper-class accent, pushing his glasses up, throwing his nose high into the air. “You look positively _indecent_!” 

Remus snorted a laugh. “You would be too if Sirius had his mouth on your –” Remus stopped, gripping James by the shoulder to hold him back. When James turned, Remus held his finger to his lips, the two of them going very still. Remus tilted his head. “It’s Pete. This way.”

“That’s unnerving. Do me next.” James joked of Remus’ uncanny ability to pick Peter’s voice out of a crowd. As they made their way through the room, Remus turned back to give James a very specific look under a very specifically raised eyebrow.

“I intend to do Sirius next, actually,” Remus smirked.

James pulled his lips into his teeth. “Oh, I walked right into that.”

“You can only blame yourself.” Finally, they located Peter, taking animatedly to a gentleman in an all-black suit, only offset by a dark green tie. Carefully, Remus sided up next to Peter, who was so absolutely overjoyed to see him that Remus thought he might burst into tears.

“Apologies, for him,” Remus winced, looking up into the face of the dark-haired stranger as he kept a firm hand on Peter (with James on the other side). The stranger smiled in response and Remus couldn’t quite understand the sharp _unsettling_ that ripped through his chest at the sight of it. The man’s smile seemed kind, or Remus knew it was _supposed_ to seem kind, but there was something alarming in his green eyes that didn’t belong with a smile like that.

“He was no bother. A delight, really,” the man said, his voice drawing out like the vibrato on a stringed instrument. It was cultivated to incite intrigue, but Remus could only feel dread.

“We’ll take it from here,” James said, pulling Peter along. Before Remus could follow, the stranger with the dark hair slicked down over the back of his neck held Remus’ arm. The closeness of the stranger brought the stench of too much cologne – some fragrance that was an unpleasant mix of rotting wood and bitter citrus. Remus stifled the expression on his face.

“What’s your hurry?” He leaned in a little too far, breathed a little too close to Remus’ throat, gripped Remus’ muscle a little too insistently. But Remus was polite to a fault when it came to strangers, so he stifled a vehement retraction and pasted on a forced grin.

“I just want to make sure he’s –“ Remus started, squirming to get away, but his excuse was interrupted as someone called out to the stranger from across the room.

“Dr. Carlisle, I heard you found the perfect new protégé!” a shrill woman’s voice broke through the fog of this man’s influence. The man nodded before turning back to Remus.

“Until we meet again,” he said in a syrupy voice, reaching up to straighten the collar of Remus’ mussed shirt, letting the touch of his fingertips linger far too long against Remus’ chest, going so far as to let them trail down over Remus’ ribs. The violent clench of Remus’ teeth was so tight underneath his blatantly fake smile that he was afraid his jaw would lock shut.

As the man slithered away, Remus let out a deep, shuddering breath, letting it spread out as a determined tremor through his body, out through his limbs. Anything to shake loose the dark, looming feeling that seemed to pour from that man’s skin. Remus made a very specific mental note of his name and his face, promising himself to avoid the man at all costs.

Having lost James and Peter, Remus went straight back to Sirius. The closer he got to the room, and to Sirius, the less he thought about his uncomfortable encounter. All he wanted was for Sirius to rub off this whole unpleasant memory and pick up where they left off.

From outside the door, Remus knew that wasn’t going to happen. Through the door, Remus could hear the breaking of glass and crashing of shelves and Sirius’ voice, cracking and rupturing as he yelled, the words muffled through the closed door.

Remus opened the door immediately. “Sirius?” he called, trying desperately to make his voice sound perfectly calm, despite the sudden, painful pounding in his chest. First, Remus’ eyes fell on James and Peter, standing frozen nearby, eyes darting back and forth singularly.

When Remus finally found Sirius, he was holding a lamp, the bulb of which had been smashed out, the frosted glass shimmering as it scattered over Sirius’ bare feet. There were books and papers strewn everywhere, their shelves ripped from the plastered walls. Pieces of coloured ceramic littered the floor from shattered picture frames. And Sirius was crying.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus whispered, his throat suddenly narrow. From where he stood, still rather far from Sirius, he reached out. Even at that distance, Sirius still jerked back with a sharp intake of air, like he was suddenly terrified of Remus’ touch, and Remus winced at the sound of crunching glass underneath Sirius’ bare feet. “Sirius, please. What happened?”

Sirius clenched his teeth so hard, they audibly snapped together. “Don’t you fucking ask me what happened. You … you were … you _knew_ ,” he stuttered, hands shaking violently. The movement drew Remus’ attention to the splash of red that had begun to run down Sirius’ arm, dripping through his fingertips, leaving a frightening, dark stain on the white lamp.

“Pads, you’re hurt. Let me help you.” Again, Remus reached out.

“Don’t fucking _touch_ me!” Sirius screamed through a tight jaw, hurling the lamp against the wall next to Remus, splintering it to pieces. Remus tried not to flinch. With his hands free, Sirius brought them up to his face, burying his tear-stained cheeks into his bloody fingers.

At the sight of the boy he was falling in love with broken and in shambles before him, without being able to do a damn thing to fix it, a deep and terrible agony ripped at the vasculature of Remus’ heart. Tears poured down his cheeks before he knew they were there.

“Tell me what I did. _Please_ ,” Remus’ voice broke as he cried, locking his hands behind his neck to keep himself from trying to physically reach out to Sirius. It barely worked.

Sirius pulled his face from his hands, a single blood-stained handprint stamped out over his blotchy, tear-drenched cheek. His lip quivered as he spoke, “Did you _know_?”

“Did I know what, Padfoot? Please, _talk_ to me,” Remus begged, voice thick and choking.

“It’s … he’s …” Sirius stammered, blinking furiously as tears poured down his face. “I can’t stay here. I can’t _stay_ here,” he repeated, breathing in and out too rapidly. His bloodied hand gripped tightly to the collar of his shirt, just like the first day Remus met him, the day Sirius had a panic attack in James’ backyard. Remus did the only thing he knew to do, even back then.

“Sirius, breathe,” he instructed, walking over to him, as Sirius’ breathing grew shorter, shallower, faster, harder. With Remus’ hand outstretched to Sirius’ chest, Sirius’ hand swatted him away, pressing his palm flat to Remus’ sternum to keep him at bay. For one, brief moment, Sirius leaned in, any colour left on his face drained into translucence under a blood red stain.

“He was all over you.” Sirius’ eyes went wide and hollow, tears spilling out from a bottomless, black well. His whole body trembled as he tore himself viciously away from Remus’ chest, backing away and staring in horror down at his hands. “I smell him _all over_ you.”

Before Remus could even question him, Sirius shoved past him and bolted from the room, just like the first time Remus had ever held Sirius in his arms. With tears flowing uncontrolled down Remus’ cheeks, he turned to James and Peter, both visibly shaken.

“What the fuck do I _do_?” he asked, voice shuddering in panicked breath.


	7. A Pool of Blood to Prove It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the basis for most all of the warnings associated with this work, including sexual abuse, drug overdose, and suicide attempt. PLEASE take care when reading this!

**_ Sirius  _ **

“Tell James I’m going to kill him.” A playful, but equally quite irritated growl left Sirius’ throat as Remus went to open the door to satisfy James, who evidently wouldn’t leave until he stole Remus away. With the door open, Sirius could see the smug, knowing grin on James’ face from beyond Remus’ shoulder. His eyes glanced down as Remus zipped his trousers.

“We’re both going to kill you,” Remus stated, the usual kindness in his voice still present, but overshadowed by a thick cloud of genuine annoyance.

“If you’re going to kill anyone, it should be Pete,” James said, and he leaned past Remus to give Sirius an overly friendly wave, to which Sirius responded with a middle finger. A slight rise in his brow appeared as he noticed the debauched way Sirius was sprawled wildly across the sheets, but he continued. “He’s drunk arse over tit. Thinks you’re hiding from him.”

“Don’t tell me. He’s downstairs,” Remus groaned, leaving the door slightly ajar as he and James moved down the hallway, their voices fading the further away they got.

At first, Sirius let out a loud breath, falling back against the pillow, reveling in the way it still smelled like Remus’ hair, traces of cigarette smoke and rosewater shampoo. The song continued playing from his mobile. _Islands_ by Young the Giant. Sirius had formulated this playlist over the last two weeks, cataloguing every song that he’d heard Remus play, finding every lyric Remus quoted in conversation, banking every melody Remus sang under his breath.

The longer Sirius lay there, breathing in the scent of Remus, listening to words that he’d heard sung delicately from Remus’ lips, the more he realized he couldn’t stay, aching and waiting. Besides, watching James and Remus try to wrangle a very drunk Peter might be fun.

When Sirius crept from the room, James and Remus were no longer in sight. Their voices weren’t that far away, however, and Sirius could hear James trying to embarrass Remus about literally getting caught with his fly down, but Remus was firing back in kind, aiming to embarrass James _more_ , through lewd details. An arrogant smirk turned up the corners of Sirius’ lips.

Eventually, Sirius lost the sound of them and wandered through several rooms trying to find them again. As he neared the end of a hallway, Sirius spotted Peter within the large sitting room, the room where Sirius had first met Remus. At the same time, Remus and James located Peter, too, both of them taking one side, trying to lure Peter away from whatever party guest he was currently bothering – a man with dark hair, oiled all the way back down his neck. When the man turned, a malignant jolt immediately surged through Sirius’ chest, chaining him in place.

_No, no, no, no._ Sirius’ breath dissolved, tears filling his eyes. Not him. Not _him_. Not _here_.

With the same trademark, vacant charm oozing from his teeth, Ethan Carlisle smiled at Remus. At _his_ Remus. At Sirius’ Remus. It was the same carcinogenic smile he’d used on Sirius. The sort of smile that Sirius _knew_ to reject but didn’t have the perception or power to do it.

At the sight of that sickening smile, an overwhelming urge to vomit burrowed up Sirius’ gut. One hand went to the wall to steady the intractable dizziness that had quickly set in while the other went over his mouth, holding the contents of his stomach behind his teeth. It was barely successful. The caustic burning of his esophagus still left him doubling over.

Sirius could barely convince himself to look back up at them, at the face of his daydreams speaking so calmly to the face of his nightmares. When he did, he watched James pull Peter away, back toward the stairs, leaving Remus _alone_ with the most predatory bastard in Britain.

Remus _tried_ to follow, or that’s what Sirius hoped he saw, because he suddenly _didn’t_ follow, didn’t leave. He stayed there with Carlisle, let that disgusting prick hold him by the arm and pull him in close. And Remus Lupin, the one Sirius _loved_ , smiled at him. He smiled at the man who ruined Sirius’ life. Everything in Sirius’ body went frightfully still, disturbingly quiet.

It was as if his heart had paused in its violent beating, so Sirius wouldn’t miss the way Carlisle drew his hands to the collar of Remus’ shirt. His lungs voided of air to focus his attention on the smoothing of Carlisle’s meaty fingers across Remus’ chest and down his waist. Every thought in his head went absent in order to frame how Remus didn’t retract from _any_ of it. 

All of these functions rushed back in a disorienting haze as Sirius saw Remus _smile_ again.

With his hands against the wall, the only thing keeping him on his feet, Sirius stumbled back to the stairs, back up to his room, where James and Peter had been waiting for him. If they were speaking to him, he couldn’t hear them. He barely could even acknowledge that they were there, other than the shapes their shadows cast upon the walls. All he could see was Ethan Carlisle’s fingers wrapped insistently around Remus’ arm and Remus smiling about it.

A scream scraped its way up his throat, clawing into raw tissue as it pummeled out through his lips. There was too much in his chest, too much in his head, spilling out over the rest of him and he couldn’t hold it all. He forgot where he was, forgot _who_ he was. In his rage and confusion and despondence, he began destroying anything close enough to touch.

Shelving was ripped from the walls, with all of their contents thrown out over the bedroom floor, papers and books and picture frames cast down indiscriminately. There were vague sounds of plaster cracking and the muffled thuds of hardcover books dropping onto thick carpet. As if through a tunnel, Sirius could hear himself shouting, as his tirade continued.

“No, no, no!” His voice cracked. “ _Fuck_. Fuck!”

“Pads, what happened?” James raised his voice to get Sirius’ attention, but there was none left to spare. A torrent of terrifying thoughts flooded into his mind until he thought of nothing else. Of Remus being taken from him, Remus subjected to the same horrors that Sirius had been through, and Sirius being fucking powerless to stop Carlisle. Just like the last time. 

“Take _anything_ but Moony,” he whispered, panicked tears rolling unguarded down his face. “Take _me_ instead.” As the tension in his arm gave way, the lamp in his hand cracked against the frame of the bed, the light bulb shattering. Sirius could feel the shards of glass littering the carpet underneath his bare feet, felt a piece of the broken ceramic dig into his upper arm.

“Sirius?” A timid voice rang out above all the other noise. As Sirius looked up to meet Remus’ gaze, his anger was redirected. Carlisle wasn’t _coercing_ Remus into doing anything. The smile on Remus’ face had told him that. The question was what was _behind_ the smile.

In his overwhelming paranoia, there was only one conclusion that Sirius could draw, only one thought shouting out over all the others. Remus _knew_ Ethan Carlisle. Had he known him the whole time? Was this all a big set-up to get Sirius back into Carlisle’s grasp?

“Sirius,” Remus repeated his name softly, in that way that only Remus knew how, and he reached out. Before he could take a single step, Sirius forcefully pulled away, despite Remus being nowhere near close enough to touch him. “Sirius, please,” Remus said, lowering his voice even further, down to a near whisper. Sirius ground his teeth. “What happened?”

His eyes shot up toward Remus. “Don’t you fucking ask me what happened. You, you, you were … you _knew_ ,” he finally stammered out, trying to point at Remus, but unable to steady his quivering hands. His grip tightened on the broken lamp in his hand, but the blood had begun to run down his arm, flooding through his fingers and making them slip over the porcelain.

“Pads, you’re hurt,” Remus said, reaching out again. “Let me help you.”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Sirius screamed, teeth still clenched painfully tight. To keep Remus away, Sirius threw the lamp against the wall next to where Remus stood. Remus barely even flinched, his dark, worried eyes not once removed from Sirius’ face.

This was all wrong. These two halves of his life were never supposed to collide. Remus was supposed to be pure and separate and safe. As Sirius buried his face into his hands, only mildly aware of the blood seeping over his cheek, he sobbed, shoulders shuddering.

“Tell me what I did,” Remus’ trembling voice rang out clear over all the noise in Sirius’ head, all the pounding in his chest. “ _Please_.” As Sirius glanced up through his fingers, he saw tears begin to stream down Remus’ face. His hands were held tight to the back of his neck, as if to assure Sirius, and himself, that he wouldn’t reach out again. His whole body shook with dread.

In a small, broken voice, Sirius asked again. “Did you _know_?”

“Did I know what, Padfoot?” Remus’ voice cracked, begged. “ _Please_ talk to me.”

“It’s … he’s …” Sirius tried to explain, but Remus had to know what he meant. He had been face-to-face with Carlisle. He had spoken to him. He’d _smiled_ at him. Any shelter that Sirius had found in Remus was now decimated. Like everything else, Carlisle had corrupted it.

“I can’t stay here,” Sirius said, hearing himself repeat it over and over. There was breath moving in and out of his lungs, he could feel his diaphragm contract and relax, but felt no effect of it on his body. Like he wasn’t breathing at all. He tore at the collar of his shirt for some relief.

“Sirius, breathe.” Even then, Remus’ voice was calming. But it wasn’t real. None of the safety he had felt with Remus had been real. Not if Remus could be friendly with a villain like Ethan Carlisle. Not if Remus could look into Carlisle’s toxic gaze and reply with a warm smile.

As Remus reached out instinctively, Sirius knocked his hand away, pushing as hard as he could against Remus’ chest to keep him at arm’s length. With his hand pressed flat to Remus’ chest, he realized, with devastating clarity, that he already missed Remus’ warmth.

The longing was short-lived. Because now that Remus was so close, Sirius realized, with a sickeningly jarring sensation, that Remus didn’t smell like himself. The sweet, floral notes always hidden in the tangles of Remus’ hair was replaced with the overpowering stench of a specific brand of cologne, an awful mix of sage and grapefruit, so sharp that it stung Sirius’ eyes. The mint and smoke and cider that had been on Remus’ tongue were drowned out by the noxious fumes of expensive scotch and imported cigars that had been breathed onto Remus’ skin.

Remus didn’t smell like _Remus_. He smelled like Ethan Fucking Carlisle.

“He was all over you,” Sirius stated emptily, feeling the blood leave his face and the tears fall from his eyes. A fulminant tremor tore through his body as he stared down at his blood-stained hands, picking up Carlisle’s scent on himself, as well. “I smell him _all over_ you.”

Before Remus could get any closer, Sirius stumbled past him, barreling out of the room as fast as his feet would carry him. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t safe.

Blindly, not even trying to fight the tears in his eyes, Sirius fumbled down the hall, through crowds of strangers, down the stairs. When he neared the bottom of the stairs, he lost his footing, plunging headfirst toward the floor. But Sirius and the floor never met.

A pair of arms had wrapped around him to keep him upright, and Sirius landed against the broad chest with a surprised huff. In his delirium, he nearly thanked them. Until he smelled acid and sage and imported cigars. Until he heard the voice of his nightmares.

“Why, _Sirius_ ,” Carlisle’s voice seeped unwanted into Sirius’ ear, sending a searing disgust into the pit of his stomach and an accompanying pain down his spine. “What a serendipitous evening this is turning out to be, indeed.” His lips brushed against Sirius’ ear.

“No, don’t –” Sirius started to argue, started to fight, but Carlisle had _always_ been able to overpower Sirius, to tame him, to break him. With one swift push, with Carlisle’s fingers curling around Sirius’ throat, Sirius went stumbling backward through an open door, into an office.

His back landed hard against the wall just inside the door, his weight pressing the light switch in the room. For only a moment, he made the mistake of looking right into the face of the man who had haunted his dreams for the last year. The slicked hair that only Sirius had ever seen out of place, the piercing green eyes that couldn’t hide their maliciousness. An odious shudder wound up from Sirius’ heels, through his heart, and into his throat, as Carlisle shut the door.

“Funny thing, this is,” Carlisle purred, still holding Sirius by the throat as he took a handkerchief from his lapel pocket, trying to wipe away the blood from Sirius’ face. In his terror, Sirius went static, unmoving as Carlisle brushed at his face. “I wandered away to find that delicious little boy with all the scars …” Sirius’ eyes widened. The tears hadn’t stopped pouring down his cheeks. Did this mean that Remus didn’t know Carlisle? It certainly seemed that Carlisle didn’t know _him_. “And who should fall into my lap but my favourite, _obedient_ pupil?”

“Don’t fucking touch him,” Sirius growled through a narrowed throat, but it only resulted in Carlisle’s grip tightening around Sirius’ neck. It became a struggle to draw breath.

“ _Oh_ ,” Carlisle sang off-key, full of interest. “Found your new weak spot, haven’t I?”

“I’ll kill you,” Sirius croaked out through clenched teeth, voice buried within a wheeze.

“You know what to do to save him, you know.” Carlisle leaned in. Despite Sirius’ struggle to keep him away, Carlisle pressed a violent, unwilling kiss to Sirius’ lips. “ _You_ take his place.”

A strangled breath escaped from Sirius’ lips as he struggled to rid himself of the foul taste of Ethan Carlisle. Carlisle’s lips moved over his face, undeterred by the blood on Sirius’ cheek.

“Still so beautiful,” Carlisle hummed, sucking in a deep breath over the stern tightening of Sirius’ jaw. “And cocky as ever.” He let out a hushed laugh as he ground his hips into Sirius, shunting him into the wall. Sirius grimaced, trying to wrench away from Carlisle’s hold, but he had always been more powerful than Sirius. Swallowing hard, Sirius put weight into his voice.

“Get the fuck off me.” Sirius shoved against him, but Carlisle’s full weight had Sirius pinned against the wall. He spat into Carlisle’s face and Carlisle just _laughed_.

“You’re bolder than you used to be,” Carlisle crooned. “Let’s see if I can break you of it.”

Sirius bared his teeth. “Try it. I’ll make sure the whole fucking house knows.” The smile that flashed over Carlisle’s teeth unsettled the corrosive bile boiling up into Sirius’ throat. 

“It’s either you … or _him_ ,” Carlisle grinned arrogantly as Sirius went still, what little colour remaining in his cheeks left pooling at the base of his throat like a red stain.

“Don’t you da–” he started, but Carlisle interrupted.

“What was it the blonde boy called him? Remus, wasn’t it? What a _cute_ name.” His voice oozed over Sirius’ skin like a pathogen, infiltrating his pores, burrowing into his lips.

“Leave him out of this,” Sirius threatened, teeth snapping shut.

“Maybe I’ll bind and gag you and stuff you in a closet where you can watch me seduce him right out from under you,” he said under a diseased smile, inciting tears to spring new and roll down Sirius’ cheeks. They left wet trails in the dark red blood, now dried against his skin.

“ **Stop**.” Sirius’ voice went hollow and empty and powerless.

Without letting Sirius move an inch, Carlisle pulled him away from the wall, the removal of their weight killing the light in the room. Carlisle rammed Sirius back against what felt like a bookshelf within the dark room. He shoved his vile tongue into Sirius’ mouth and Sirius remembered the way to keep his mouth wide open, so he didn’t choke on the disgust.

In the dark, Sirius felt Carlisle’s hands slip cold underneath the hem of Sirius’ t-shirt, steeling himself not to retract as Carlisle ripped the shirt from over Sirius’ head and tossed it unseen somewhere into the darkness. He remembered the way Carlisle reacted to being reminded that Sirius was, in no way, attracted to him. The first thing Sirius had ever done was train himself to be still, to be compliant, to _pretend_ , so he could keep Carlisle from hurting him.

But they weren’t at university and Sirius wasn’t the person he was when he was Carlisle’s complicit student. He no longer wanted to be still and obedient. To hell with trying not to get hurt and to hell with his physical well-being. His _sanity_ was more important than that.

He just needed to fight back long enough for Remus to find him. Because Remus _would_ find him. Remus would be worried. Remus would be looking for him. _Wouldn’t_ he?

That thought instantly took him back to the last conversation he’d had with Remus. A fight more than a conversation. How could he have ever thought that Remus would have anything to do with someone as depraved as Ethan Carlisle? Remus, who was always so careful in the way he touched Sirius, in the way he held him, in the way he kissed him. Remus, who knew better than anyone what it was like to be held against your will by someone set on destroying you, just to prove that they could. There was no way Remus could’ve known who Carlisle was.

Thoughts of Remus pulled Sirius deep, in a dedicated effort to forget where he was and who he was with. In his desperation to escape, on instinct, he called out to Remus to save him. 

“ _Moony_ ,” he whimpered, wishing he could cry out louder, wishing there was some small miracle in place that would let Remus hear him, that would let Remus find him.

“That had better be my name on your lips,” Carlisle’s voice hissed as he spun Sirius around, brutally shoving his face against the bookshelf. A gag threatened in Sirius’ gut.

“It never has been before, you prick.” Sirius spat back, throwing an elbow blindly backward, landing a hard blow against Carlisle’s ribs. In response, Carlisle pulled his arm further, twisting it up behind his back as Sirius grit his teeth in pain, breathing in sharply.

“It fucking will be,” Carlisle’s voice rumbled into his ear. “Say it, Sirius.”

“Fuck you.” The angle of Sirius’ arm wrenched deeper, ending with a loud pop, and Sirius let out a pained yell. Without loosening his grip, Carlisle pressed his hips in, grinding himself against Sirius’ backside. With every thrust, Sirius’ shoulder shifted further out of place. 

“Say my name, Sirius,” Carlisle demanded, his free hand pressing down hard around Sirius’ length until he winced at the pain. “Say it, or I’ll make _Remus_ say it.”

Sirius screwed his eyes closed tight, teeth clenched to the point of cracking, with Carlisle’s vile name echoing through them. “Ethan.”

The irritated breath that Carlisle breathed into the back of Sirius’ neck told him that it hadn’t been what he wanted. “Say it the way you say _his_ name,” he ordered, squeezing Sirius.

 _His name,_ Sirius thought with an ache in his chest, squeezing his eyes closed even more tightly. After tonight, he would never be able to look Remus in the face again. Not after he had blamed Remus for Carlisle’s presence. Especially not after knowing what Carlisle did to him.

Resting his head on the shelf in front of him, Sirius let out a solemn, empty breath as the tears resumed forging their paths through the remnants of blood on his face. If he had known he was going to have such limited time with Remus, would he have done things differently?

Fuck, yes. He would’ve spent more time looking into Remus’ bright golden eyes. He would’ve buried his fingers into Remus’ soft, formless curls at every opportunity. He would’ve never let the warmth of Remus’ lips part from his. He would’ve gone to one knee for Remus.

“Say it!” Carlisle shouted. In his rage, Carlisle shoved his hand into Sirius’ hair and pulled back, slamming Sirius into the edge of one of the shelves, sending flashes of white and streams of colour into Sirius’ darkened eyes. There was a vague feeling of fluid running down his face, but his awareness of everything else became frighteningly dull. Everything began to swirl together.

“ _No_ ,” Sirius breathed out, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Then I’ll _make_ you say it, you worthless slag,” Carlisle growled angrily. With Sirius fighting the steadily creeping unconsciousness, Carlisle let both his hands fall away from Sirius, keeping Sirius pinned with his knees, as he tried to unfasten his trousers.

A distant sound perked Sirius’ ears. Someone was shouting. Calling. For _him_.

“Padfoot!” a desperate, broken voice screamed from several rooms away. Without stopping to think about what Carlisle would do to him in retaliation, Sirius returned the call.

“ _Moon–!_ ” he began to shout at the top of his lungs, despite the ache and swelling in his head, despite how Carlisle had him half-undressed. Before the sound could fully burst from his lips, Carlisle smothered Sirius’ scream with his sweaty hand, wrapping the other tightly around his throat to still the air moving through it. With his lungs screaming for breath, Sirius struggled viciously against Carlisle’s hold, only to find himself even shorter of strength and oxygen.

“Do you really want him to find you? To see you like this?” Carlisle threatened. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he heard Remus continue to call out for him, his shouts growing colder with distance. There was nothing left in Sirius’ lungs. He tried to suck in a breath to argue, to fight, to _run_ , but Carlisle’s hands kept squeezing until the vision in Sirius’ eyes faded.

On the edge of oblivion, a flood of light burst into the room, leaving Carlisle scrambling, cursing, losing his grip on Sirius, who fell limp to the floor. Before Sirius could lose consciousness entirely, he heard the voice who had been calling to him from all over the house.

“ _Sirius_ ,” the voice breathed out anxiously. He could feel arms around him, could hear a doorknob rattle from deep within the room as Carlisle tried to flee, but it all started fading. The last thing that Sirius heard before he slipped away was the cold, bitter rage in the familiar, yet empty voice as it said, “James, don’t let that bastard think he’s getting away from me.”

Only a few moments later, with lungs full of new air, Sirius awoke with a combative start, unaware of his surroundings. All he knew was that someone was holding him down and that the last person he had been with was Ethan Carlisle. His only thought was to get away. To _run_.

It didn’t matter if he had to fight. He would rather die than let Carlisle have his way with him again. Briefly, he remembered Carlisle’s threat to take Remus instead, but Sirius pushed it from his mind. Remus would never be this weak. He would never let Carlisle use him like this.

So, Sirius fought. His fists went blindly into the air, his vision still not fully returned. The hands holding him tightened around his waist, still bare from where his clothes had been ripped from his skin. Feeling those fingertips dig into his hips sent an intractable sickness into his gut.

There was a voice calling out to him, from somewhere behind him. It didn’t sound like Carlisle at all, but there was so much pressure, so much ringing in his head, he couldn’t be sure it _wasn’t_. He couldn’t risk staying in one place if it was Carlisle. He couldn’t risk staying still.

Finally, one of his blows hit its mark. It felt like a cheekbone. Maybe an eye socket. A painful groan echoed out from the source behind him. The voice had begun to sound more familiar, the more Sirius’ head cleared, but it still wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. As the grip against his waist laxed, Sirius launched himself toward the door to get away.

“Sirius, wait!” he heard the voice shout. It sounded like Remus. But it _couldn’t_ have been Remus, because Remus wouldn’t have come for him. Not after what Sirius had accused him of.

His vision was still blurry from the blow to his head. One of his eyes was completely matted shut from the blood that had run down his face. Everything was pounding – his head, his heart, his hands. Even his feet pounded on the stones of the Potter’s driveway underneath them, unsteady as they were. He just needed to go home, where Carlisle couldn’t find him.

Somehow, he managed to take the tube all the way back to his flat, though he couldn’t remember anything since he ran from James’ house. As he stumbled inside the building, struggling to get up the stairs, he stopped suddenly, a nauseating realization washing over him.

In the dark, with Carlisle’s hands on his skin, with Sirius stripped by those hands, with Carlisle pressed against Sirius’ barely covered hips, _Remus_ had opened that door. Remus had seen what he truly was when he was with Carlisle. It didn’t matter that Carlisle had coerced him into doing it, he’d still done it. He had essentially been found _cheating_ on Remus.

His trembling knees gave out at the top of the stairs and he collapsed to the floor, burying his face into his hands and sobbing. How could Remus ever forgive him for this? How could Remus ever look at him as anything other than Carlisle’s personal whore after what he had seen? The truth was, Remus _couldn’t_ forgive him. Sirius knew that. And he couldn’t live with it.

Gathering himself as best as he could, he slammed his shoulder into the door of Marlene’s flat. She and Dorcas were both still at James’ party and she promised Lily not to deal while there. Which meant she had left her entire supply in her flat.

A few more violent shoves into Marlene’s flimsy front door broke the hinges, allowing Sirius to slip inside. There was a rolling suitcase that Marlene kept everything in, every different drug separated into their own sections, their own bags. His fingers twitched and trembled as he brushed over each bag individually, each containing tablets or capsules or liquid vials.

He skipped the ones he knew. Marlene never gave him anything too strong, said she only wanted to treat his anxiety, not get him addicted to anything he didn’t need to live. Just as he nearly grabbed a random handful of anything he could hold, a conversation he’d overheard Marlene having with another one of her customers sparked in his mind.

“ _They pulled those buggers off the market. Too strong for you, mate,”_ she had said, the customer pointing at a bag of blue capsules. _“They cost more than you can afford, anyway.”_

Immediately, Sirius went rifling through the suitcase for those blue capsules. He just wanted to forget. He wanted to forget the look he imagined seeing on Remus’ face. He wanted to forget the feel of Carlisle’s hands on his skin. He wanted to forget his whole fucking life.

In his desperation, he threw several bags to the floor – white tablets, blue tablets, clear liquid, green capsules. None of them were the ones he wanted, the ones that would knock him out indefinitely. The ones that would let him sleep. The ones that might keep him asleep.

Finally, he unburied them. There were only a few in the bag. No matter. It was surely enough for what he needed. He emptied the bag into his palm and staggered back over to his flat. With a specific thought in mind, he locked the door behind him.

He grabbed a full bottle of whiskey, walking stiffly into his bedroom. The tears had dried, mixing into a crust with the blood on his face. For a moment, his eyes started to swell with tears again, but he choked them down. Crying wouldn’t help. It never had before.

Falling hard against the wall furthest from his bed, Sirius sank to the floor, taking a long, deep drink from the amber bottle in his hand. He didn’t know what good only three capsules would do, but he knew he didn’t want to fail at this, like he failed at everything else. He didn’t want Remus Lupin to waste his life trying to save a miserable shit like Sirius Black.

Breaking open the bitter contents of the capsules onto his tongue, he washed it back with a hard swallow of cheap whiskey. And he waited. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t wait long. 

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

In shock and distress, Remus stood frozen, unsure of what to do, other than let the tears roll unnumbered down his face. What the fuck had just happened? What had he done?

“Did you … have a fight?” Peter asked timidly. Even James shook his head. No, there was no fight. The last thing Remus was aware of was Sirius asking to be his boyfriend. Everything had been perfect before that. Before Remus had gone downstairs. What had he _done_?

In his mind, he went through the last five minutes. That’s all it had been – just five minutes. Obviously, Sirius had to have left the room. He had to have _seen_ something. Was it that stranger – the one who somehow made Remus feel very much cornered in a very open space, the one who held him back? Had Sirius seen that brief interaction and gotten the wrong idea?

“Do I …” Remus started to ask out loud, trying to wipe the saline from his face. “Do I go after him? I can’t let him leave like this. He’s not … what if he …” Remus’ breaths started to come up more shallow, more infrequent. Quickly, James took several steps in, holding Remus by both shoulders and looking persuasively at him. With a nod, Remus tried to control his breathing.

“We go look for him. That’s what we do,” James said insistently. Remus nodded again, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. Before they left the room, Remus picked up Sirius’ mobile that had been left on the bedside table, slipping it into his back pocket.

It took a few minutes, but they had managed to recruit Lily, Marlene and Dorcas, and Alice and Frank in the search for Sirius. Their group managed the search upstairs, while James, Peter, and Remus thundered noisily down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, Remus picked up a familiar scent, the same noxious cologne he had smelled on that ominous stranger from the party, Dr. Carlisle. He wrinkled his nose, the unsettled feeling in his stomach surging.

“Mum!” James called, seeing his mother having a conversation with a group of guests very near the front door of the house. Mrs. Potter looked up with a smile, but it slacked.

“James, dear, is everything alright?” she asked with concern in her voice as she took him by the shoulder in that trademark way James did with all of them. Apparently, it was genetic.

“Did Sirius run through here?” James asked breathlessly. Immediately, Mrs. Potter looked to Remus, surely seeing the blotched, teary expression on Remus’ face. Her face went tight.

“No, he didn’t.” Worry deepened the lines of her forehead. “What’s happened?”

“We’re not sure,” Peter said with a heavy sigh as he looked back to Remus.

“He has to still be here,” James assured them all, taking a breath as he looked around the foyer, leaning over to look into the next room. “We just have to find him.”

“Can we call him?” Peter asked as they went into the large sitting room. Remus shook his head, patting his back pocket to make sure Sirius’ mobile phone was still in it.

“He left his mobile. I have it,” Remus replied, an anxious breath falling from his lips.

“Split up,” James said, pointing toward the back of the room. “Ask around. Maybe someone saw him go out through the back.” He made his way toward the far wall as Remus walked along the one closest to him. Pete split the difference in the middle of the crowd.

For all the noise in the room and all the noise in his head, Remus could hardly concentrate. All he could think about was how this had happened, _why_ it had happened. Why had he left the room in the first place? Why couldn’t he have just left James to find Peter on his own? What had Sirius seen to make him think that Remus could betray him?

As Remus made his way through the crowd, steadying his shaking legs with one hand against the wall behind him, he looked through the faces of the guests, desperate to see a pair of silver eyes looking back at him. From within the masses of conversations happening around him, a single phrase caught his attention, sending an immediate, visceral horror into his chest.

“Now, where has Ethan run off to?” a woman exclaimed. Remus stopped cold, fingers trembling as they fell to his sides, a suffocating dread filling his lungs at the sound of that name.

“What did you just say?” Remus asked, eyes wide, the breath falling from his lungs. The woman looked over at him, irritated at first, but her expression softened as she saw his face.

“Dr. Carlisle. _Ethan_ Carlisle, he was just here a moment ago.” The crippling panic in his chest spread out to every inch of his skin, every organ, every fiber. It rapidly swelled into a nauseating rage in his gut until the tremble in his hands curled into tight, steady fists.

He was _here_. That son of a bitch was _here_. Remus had let him walk away, _alive_.

The stranger who had given Remus such an uneasy feeling earlier was the same man who had been abusing Sirius. Everything Sirius had said made so much sense now. ‘ _He was all over you. I smell him all over you_.’ Remus had brought the smell of that distinctive cologne, the scent of Sirius’ abuser, right to him. Remus had stood in front of him, _wearing_ that stench.

And now Sirius, and his predator, were both _missing_.

“Sirius!” Remus shouted, his voice cracking with desperation and fear as he tore through the room, pushing through angry guests. “ _Sirius_!” he screamed, regret flooding his throat with every syllable. People shouted back as he shoved them aside, but he didn’t dare stop.

“Remus, what is it?” Peter asked, with James on his heels.

“He’s _here_ ,” Remus growled, eyes wildly searching the room, searching for any sign of Sirius or Ethan Fucking Carlisle. “That bastard is in your fucking house.”

“Who?” James asked, but Remus was already bolting away, grabbing anyone who resembled Carlisle by the collar of their expensive jackets and turning them to face him. None of them were Carlisle. When James caught up, he held Remus still. “Remus, _who_?”

“The one who _did this_ to him,” Remus said through clenched teeth as he went through the room, pulling open every door he encountered. “The man who assaulted Sirius. He’s here.”

“ _What_.” James’ voice went instantly blank, his expression frigid and harsh as he swallowed hard. “Find him,” he ordered of Peter, pushing him down an empty hallway.

The three of them split up, with Remus sprinting toward the bottom of the stairs. Carlisle had been there, Remus could _smell_ him there. Along the way, he continued to call for Sirius, straining to hear some semblance of Sirius’ voice calling back. There was nothing.

He would never forgive himself if something happened to Sirius. He was supposed to keep Ethan away, Sirius said so himself. All the progress that they had made together would all be gone. This would destroy Sirius. Remus would do anything to keep that from happening.

The stench of Carlisle was still at the bottom of the stairs, lingering like a festering wound, reminding Remus of how much harm that man could do to Sirius in the time Remus was _wasting_ by looking in all the wrong places. His hands began to tremble again as he raced forward, wondering if he had time to go through every single room in the house.

“Padfoot!” he screamed again, the terror in his voice scraping out through his throat. For only a moment, he paused, closing his eyes and praying that, if Sirius could hear him, he was able to respond. Praying that if Sirius did respond, that Remus would be able to hear him in return.

Suddenly, a muffled shout, “ _Moon_ –!” It was stifled, cut-off. But it was _Sirius_.

Without a plan, Remus began tearing open every door down the hallway, coming up empty every time, but he couldn’t slow. Sirius was here. He was somewhere in the house and wherever he was, Carlisle was with him, keeping him from calling out.

The rage in Remus’ gut boiled into his throat, spilled over into his muscles until his was vibrating under the energy that pumped into his veins. A very clear thought formed in Remus’ mind as he continued flinging open every door, plaster and wood splinters sprinkling down into the carpet with every unhindered movement of Remus’ hands.

If he found Ethan Carlisle with his hands on Sirius, he was going to _slaughter_ him.

At the last door, very near to the bottom of the stairs, Remus met James and Pete, who heard his furious search, his _screaming_ from across the house. Remus cursed himself for not recognizing this door first. Practically ripping the door from the hinges, Remus flooded the room with light. The scene before his eyes was everything he had been afraid to find.

Ethan Carlisle had Sirius pinned face-first against a bookcase. Half of Sirius’ clothes were torn off and Carlisle was frantically trying to refasten his trousers. For half a moment, Remus couldn’t convince his body to move, frozen in place by the revulsion of what he was seeing, anchored to the floor by the searing anguish that was eating its way through his chest cavity. 

A frightening, dark stain dripped from the edge of the white bookshelf, just underneath Sirius’ forehead. Sirius began to slip to the floor, half of his face covered in the dried blood from his hands, the other half covered in blood from this new wound, where Carlisle had evidently tried to smash his head. Before he knew to move, Remus was underneath Sirius as he collapsed.

No, he wasn’t just going to slaughter Carlisle. He was going to _eviscerate_ him.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus breathed out, his fury momentarily melting into suffering as he held the boy he had been falling in love with, bleeding and barely conscious, in his arms. The fury returned as he realized that Carlisle was trying to feel his way out through another door, and Remus flicked his hollow, violent gaze over to James, who returned his expression with a knowing grimace. “James, don’t let that bastard think he’s getting away from me.”

Before Remus had even finished speaking, James was moving, a blur in the dark, and Remus watched him dig his hands into the shoulders of Carlisle’s jacket, slamming his knee into Carlisle’s stomach. There was a struggle and Carlisle managed to wrench away, out of his jacket, but James wasn’t far behind. Soon, they disappeared from Remus’ sight.

His attention returned to Sirius just in time for Sirius to stir. Remus tightened his hold on him, whispering his name, but Sirius began to thrash wildly. His eyes were open, but they were unseeing, blank, and Remus’ pleas went unheard as Sirius violently resisted Remus’ touch.

Suddenly, he began throwing his fists indeterminately, so Remus strengthened his hold, still calling out to him, still begging Sirius to hear his voice. One of Sirius’ punches landed on Remus’ cheekbones, strong enough to knock him back, allowing Sirius to scramble away.

“Sirius, wait!” he shouted, struggling to get to his feet as Sirius vanished beyond the threshold of the door. By the time Remus reached the hallway, Sirius was nowhere in sight. As Remus started to run toward the front door, he heard heavy footsteps pound up behind him.

With a hard swallow, Remus turned, his eyes narrowed tight, his jaw compressed with enough strength to reshape every tooth in his skull. His vision went dark with a blinding rage as he faced Ethan Carlisle, his lip already bloodied from his scuffle with James, still trying to run.

“ _You_ ,” Remus breathed out through clenched teeth, curling his fingernails into his palms until he was sure they drew blood. Carlisle took a nervous step back. “ _You_ did this to him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, boy.” Carlisle continued stepping back, until they were in the sitting room, where a crowd had begun to form. If Remus was having any doubt about the amount of physical violence he was willing to display in front of this group of socialites, Carlisle determined it for him, saying under his breath, “He was practically begging for it.”

Without a sound, Remus lunged forward, using all his weight to plant his vengeful fist into the vile face of the man who had _raped_ his best friend. Carlisle went down hard, but Remus didn’t stop. Didn’t know _how_ to stop. He shoved his knee into Carlisle’s chest and continued his beating, throwing punch after hateful punch into Carlisle’s perfect fucking face.

There were women screaming somewhere in the distance. Or, they sounded like they were in the distance, maybe they were in the room. The only sounds Remus could hear was the breaking of bone underneath his knuckles, the way Carlisle struggled to breathe through the blood in his mouth, and Remus lost himself in it. _Reveled_ in it. Praised it like it was his new god.

By the time James pulled Remus away, he’d lost count of the number of times his fist had contacted Carlisle’s face. His only regret was that he didn’t have time to throw more, that his fist had gone so numb that he couldn’t feel Ethan Carlisle’s blood slip through his fingers.

“Remus, you’re going to _kill_ him,” James hissed in his ear, wrapping his arms tight around Remus’ chest in an effort to hold him back, but Remus fought against that, too.

“Then fucking _let me_ ,” Remus growled under a feral, trembling breath. By then, bystanders were kneeling next to Carlisle, tending to him, _caring_ for him. It only respawned Remus’ ferocity. James alone wasn’t enough to restrain him. Peter didn’t add much strength.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” a woman screamed at Remus. Much to Remus’ surprise, Carlisle spoke, despite how Remus was sure he had broken his jaw.

“He obviously has me confused with someone else.” Remus went frighteningly still.

“ _Moony_ ,” James tried to calm him, only a split second before Remus charged forward again, fist raised, an uncontrollable yell bellowing up from the hollows of his throat.

“I know exactly who the fuck you are, you sorry cunt,” he growled as more men rushed in to restrain him, Mr. Potter among them. “ _You_ did this to him. **_You_** fucking did this to him!” It took several more moments for James to convince Remus to calm down, so he could explain.

“Remus, what did he do?” Mr. Potter asked calmly, though his voice was wavering.

“This sick fuck sexually assaulted Sirius for _months_ , blackmailing him for his younger brother’s admission to university,” Remus admitted, taking in a staggered breath. Gasps erupted from all over the room as Remus turned his wrathful gaze to Carlisle again. “Wasn’t ruining his old life enough? You had to ruin this one, too?” Tears had begun to blur Remus’ vision.

“We caught him in the office, holding Sirius down,” James told his father through a choked, shaking voice. “If you don’t believe me, there’s a pool of Sirius’ blood to prove it.”

“Prongs, I have to go, I have to find him, _please_ ,” Remus begged, tears streaming down his cheeks. Immediately, James released his grip, pushing off anyone who had second thoughts.

“We’re going with you,” he said, pushing through the crowds as Peter held a protective arm around Remus’ shoulder. For only a moment, James turned, pointing sharply to Carlisle, still bleeding on the floor. “Do anything you want with that bastard except let him go.”

Marlene forced through the crowd of upstairs guests, who had all come down to see the commotion. From out of the corner of his eye, Remus watched Frank swipe a mobile phone out of someone’s hands, who was evidently in the process of recording the whole thing. He passed it wordlessly to Peter, who pocketed the device with a conspiring nod.

“Sirius lives in my building,” Marlene said, waving to Dorcas, who nodded, her face as soft as Remus had ever seen it. Marlene and Lily fell in line behind the boys as they rushed through the front door as Marlene continued. “I don’t know where else he could go.”

Remus took in a shaking breath. “We have to hurry.”

At the flat, there was immediate and palpable concern in the air. Before they could even make it up the stairs, it was clear that Marlene’s flat, across the hall from Sirius’, had been broken into. She raced on ahead but was only inside for less than a moment. 

“Open the door, Sirius! Open the fucking door!” she screamed, bolting across the hallway and beating against the door to Sirius’ flat. “Remus, _help me_!” Her voice broke as tears began streaming down her face. Desperately, she jerked at the knob, but it was locked.

Without a single question, Remus began ramming his shoulder against the door and it didn’t take long for James and Peter to join in beside him. The longer they struggled, the more frantic Marlene grew, and the heavier Remus’ chest became.

“He took them from my supply, I didn’t …” Marlene sobbed, breaking down into Lily’s arms. “Lil, it’s my fault. I never should’ve given him _anything_. Oh, _God_.” The pain in Remus’ chest multiplied as he tried not to imagine what they would find on the other side of that door.

Finally, in Remus’ last, violent effort, he began kicking, wild and forceful, until the plywood splintered around the lock. He was the first one through and, at first, he was relieved not to find Sirius. There was a brief moment of shock at the state of the place his boyfriend called home. A ratty sofa, a box television set, a wobbly table in between. There was no other furniture in the entire living room. The kitchen barely had appliances. The heat was still out.

There was no time for the shock to set in, no time for Remus to regret not inviting Sirius over more often, or suggest he move in with James permanently. As Remus moved further into the flat, toward the single bedroom, he saw a pair of leather boots from around the corner. They were on Sirius’ feet. And Sirius was slumped against the wall, bottle of liquor in hand, and broken, blue capsules on the carpet next to him. He wasn’t moving.

“ _No_ ,” Remus breathed out, his voice tight with panic as he slid into the carpet next to Sirius, placing his fingers just underneath Sirius’ jaw. “No, please, please, _please_.”

“Pete, call an ambulance,” James shouted, siding up next to Remus, as Remus patted Sirius’ face. “Please tell me he still has a pulse.” James’ voice was pleading. Tears were rolling down Remus’ flushed cheeks before he even knew they were in his eyes at all.

“I don’t know, I can’t find it,” Remus sobbed, turning Sirius’ face in his hands. “Sirius, please look at me, _please_.” Carefully, he pried open Sirius’ eye, trying to remember what it was Pete had said before about opioid overdose. He found the answer in the abundant ashen-grey staring back at him from Sirius’ blank stare, with very little black between. _Pinpoint pupils._

“The ambulance is on the way,” Pete called from behind them in a wet voice and Remus vaguely heard footsteps retreating quickly, through the thin walls of the flat.

“Pads, please,” Remus whispered, holding his fingers to Sirius’ lips but feeling no breath moving in or out. They already felt cold. “You can’t leave me. _Please_. I need you to stay.”

Again, James pressed two fingers to Sirius’ pulse point, and he closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on feeling movement underneath them. His eyes widened. “I think it’s there.”

“Let me through,” Marlene panted, moving around them to Sirius’ right side. As Remus looked up, he saw a plastic injector in her hand. “It’s supposed to reverse an overdose.” With one hand tight to Sirius’ thigh, she jammed the device tip against Sirius’ leg, through his jeans.

“How long does it take?” James asked.

“A few minutes,” Marlene replied, wincing. They didn’t have a few minutes. Even if Sirius _did_ have a pulse, and James wasn’t even sure, he couldn’t go a few minutes without oxygen. 

“He’s still not breathing,” Remus swallowed, letting out a hollow breath before pulling Sirius away from the wall and positioning him flat on the carpet. After tilting Sirius’ head back, and his chin up, Remus placed his lips over Sirius’ and breathed for him, praying this wouldn’t be the last kiss he would ever share with Sirius. Every few breaths, he paused to see if Sirius was breathing on his own, while James continued to check for a pulse. Neither one was very clear.

While Remus breathed air into Sirius’ lungs, the tears from his cheeks rolled down Sirius’ face, and Remus tried not to follow their path with his gaze. He tried not to see the grey pallor in Sirius’ skin, where there had been a blush an hour before. He tried not to notice the way Sirius’ eyelids were half-closed and the dull, dark colour within that had replaced the lustrous silver. He tried to ignore the emptiness that was spreading through his own chest. Nothing was working.

When the paramedics arrived, after Remus stopped providing Sirius with air, after they had taken Sirius away on a stretcher, Remus buried his face in his hands, sobs racking his shoulders and robbing him of breath. If Sirius wasn’t breathing, Remus didn’t want to, either. 

When he blinked, his eyes never closed all the way. Not quite. When he breathed in, he could taste disinfectant in the back of his throat. The air was thick with it – artificial pine and manufactured florals – trying to cover up the unnatural scent of whatever it was that lingered in the background. Almost as if he could smell the trauma and illness and death around him.

“You saved his life,” the doctor said in the waiting room. His voice was muted, his lips seemed to move slower than they should. There was a ringing in Remus’ head that was cancelling all the noise around him. It had been there since finding Sirius, half alive.

He could still see the empty capsules, broken on the floor. He could still feel the emptiness of Sirius’ flat. He could still see Sirius’ concrete eyes, staring back at him but unseeing and blank. He could still feel Sirius’ lips against his, unnaturally cold and unmoving.

“Can I see him?” Remus interrupted, his voice still hollow from a virulent emptiness that had taken root in his heart at the thought of living without Sirius.

That emptiness wasn’t fully resolved by knowing that Sirius survived. It shifted out of focus, but the dread that accompanied it was still raging in Remus’ chest. Now that he was coming down from the adrenaline of saving Sirius’ life, he was afraid of what would come after.

He was afraid of what Sirius would say. Because Remus had _failed_. He failed to see Ethan Carlisle for the monster he was when he first met him. He failed to recognize what was happening when Sirius was coming apart at the seams. He failed to keep Sirius safe.

Maybe Remus _had_ saved his life. Maybe he had kept him from death. But he hadn’t kept him from wanting to die. He wasn’t sure Sirius could forgive him for that.

“He’s still unconscious,” the physician had begun to say, but Remus interrupted again.

“I don’t care,” he said under a tight swallow. With a sympathetic nod, the doctor led Remus to the room as James convinced the others to let Remus go first, alone.

For a moment, Remus stood outside of the room, his hands trembling at his sides, his head hanging low. He knew what he would find inside. He would find Sirius, broken. Broken, but still alive. Alive whether he wanted to be or not – a choice that Remus had made _for_ him.

As he entered the room, he squinted into the bright pink of dawn settling in through the window at the far side of the room. His eyes adjusted to find Sirius in the bed closest to the window, the other bed empty. Sirius’ face was turned toward the window, his eyes closed.

The dark circles under Sirius’ eyes had never looked so deep, so black. They matched the bruise forming on Sirius’ forehead, underneath the gash that Carlisle had left there. The shade of his skin tone had never seemed so grey and bleak. His dark hair, normally teased with heat and product and touch hung limp around his sunken cheekbones. He didn’t even _look_ alive.

“ _Pads_ ,” Remus choked out, taking Sirius’ hand as soon as it was within reach, careful to avoid the IV tubing snaking up his arm. There was a bandage wrapped above the IV in his elbow, where he had cut himself with the ceramic shards of the lamp during his destructive tirade.

Tears tightened Remus’ voice. “I’m so sorry.” The tension in his shoulders gave out and he rested his head carefully onto Sirius’ wrist. “I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t strong enough. Fast enough. I should’ve been there. I never should’ve left you alone.”

A weighted, choppy sigh suddenly pushed through Sirius’ lips and Remus straightened up to look at him so fast, the peripherals of his vision went dark for a moment. Sirius’ eyes were open. He stared out the window, the circles under his eyes looking darker than they ever had.

He pulled his hand away from Remus’ grasp.

“Remus, I think you should go.”

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

The first thing he recognized was the awareness. The awareness of existence. The awareness that he had failed to rid himself of this hurt, again. The awareness that Ethan Carlisle was the problem that he would never be able to outrun, not even in death.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, to throw things, to rip out the IV line he could feel in his vein and spray blood all over the walls. He wanted to die. But he had failed. Again.

He didn’t do anything of those things. Because they wouldn’t make a fucking difference. All those things, he’d _done_ them all already. He had cried and screamed and destroyed things and taken pill after pill after pill. After all that, he was still here. And so was Ethan Carlisle.

The worst thing about this failure was having to live with the consequences. Before he’d opened those capsules, before he’d swallowed them down with a liquor chaser, he hadn’t even considered any consequences. He hadn’t thought about what it would mean for Remus, or James, or Peter. Now, he was going to have to _see_ the result of his actions on Remus’ face.

 _Remus_. How could Remus forgive him for this? How could Remus want to be with him after seeing him bent to Carlisle’s whim? No, it was beyond that. Remus _would_ forgive him, Sirius knew that now. He would forgive Sirius for his part in Carlisle’s game, he would forgive Sirius for taking those drugs, he would forgive Sirius for giving up. Because Remus understood.

But Sirius didn’t intend to let him. Because Carlisle knew who Remus was now. He knew that Remus was Sirius’ weakness, and he was right. Just like Regulus before him, Sirius would do _anything_ to protect Remus. Even if it meant giving into every one of his most basal fears.

No, being used by Carlisle wasn’t his most basal fear. It never had been. His ultimate fear was allowing the one he loved to suffer because he didn’t give _everything_ to stop it. Whether it was Regulus, disappointing his parents by getting rejected by their precious university, or Remus, having to be subjected to Carlisle’s brand of monstrosities in Sirius’ place. Neither of those things would have even been threatened if it weren’t for Sirius. He was as much to blame as Carlisle.

He would never let it happen again. By now he knew he couldn’t prevent it by standing up to Carlisle. He couldn’t do it by giving into Carlisle. He couldn’t do it with two separate suicide attempts (the ten Valium had been the first, even if it hadn’t been intentional, then).

The only thing left to do was isolate himself. If he had no one, no one could be used against him. If he had nothing, then nothing could be taken from him. If he meant nothing to everyone, then he couldn’t be used against them, either.

Because the truth was, if Remus had actually been giving the opportunity to take Sirius’ place last night, to save Sirius by letting Carlisle use him instead, he would’ve done it. There was no doubt in Sirius’ mind that Remus would do anything for him. Anything to protect him.

So, he had to take that choice away from Remus. He had to push Remus away, _very_ far away, to make sure that Remus stayed safe. To make sure that Remus would never try to sacrifice himself for Sirius’ sake. It was the only thing he could do to protect Remus in return.

Just the thought of it – ending things with Remus, never seeing Remus again – created a void in Sirius’ chest. It pulled at his muscles, sucked at the breath in his lungs, growing until Sirius could feel nothing but the vacuous space of what it left behind. 

Just as he closed his eyes, he heard the door open and he didn’t dare to look over. He knew it would be Remus, knew it had to be Remus who had brought him back, just as it was Remus who had saved him from Carlisle. Remus was always there to save him. Not for long.

“ _Pads_ ,” he heard in Remus’ voice, but it was too thick, too wet, too broken. The sound echoed in that hollow place in Sirius’ chest, only making it feel more empty.

Remus’ fingers were against his hand, within his hand. That voice that was too broken to be Remus’ voice continued. “I’m so sorry,” he cried, and Sirius felt him place his face against the inside of Sirius’ wrist. It was wet, soaked with tears. Sirius wondered if he had enough restraint to carry this out, because he could feel his own well of tears struggling to spill over.

“I wasn’t enough,” Remus whispered into the sheets. The pain in Sirius’ heart over that admission overwhelmed the emptiness until it was all he could feel. “I wasn’t strong enough, or fast enough. I should’ve been there. I never should’ve left you alone.”

A sob broke its way through Sirius’ throat, though he had been fighting to stuff it down, and it poured out as a tired, vacant breath. Immediately, Remus straightened his back to look into Sirius’ face, but Sirius didn’t look back at him. That much he could control.

Whether he could get through this next part without breaking down was unclear. He was going to have to be brutal, to detach himself from it – and from Remus – to make sure there was no room for interpretation. He couldn’t let Remus realize he didn’t _want_ this.

Quickly, he jerked his hand back to his chest, out of Remus’ fingers and Remus’ eyes went frighteningly wide, the movement spilling more tears out over his freckled cheeks.

“Remus, I think you should go,” Sirius said flatly, emptying all emotion from his tone.

“Sirius, I don’t –” Sirius interrupted, ready to say the one thing he wanted to say the least in the world but knowing that was the only way Remus would believe this lie. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Remus’ face as he slit Remus’ heart into ribbons.

“I’m not safe with you anymore.” His words were choppy, stuck in his throat like his body didn’t want them to form. The sudden stillness from Remus made Sirius ill. 

When Sirius opened his eyes and looked over, the look on Remus’ face was nothing like he was expecting. He expected a fight, or at the very least, a disagreement. He expected Remus to argue a point so obviously false. But there wasn’t fight in Remus’ expression.

It was resignation. With a clench in his jaw, he sniffled back the tears, running a rough hand over his face. And he nodded, like he _knew_. Like he believed that to be the truth. It was almost enough to break Sirius’ resolve, almost enough to want to hold Remus in his arms.

But he couldn’t. For both their sakes. For their protection.

Remus stood, agonizingly slowly, as if his body was waiting, hoping for Sirius to change his mind. The look on his face said otherwise. He hesitated, hovered, his fingers twitching on the railing of Sirius’ hospital bed and he clenched a fist to stop them.

“Can I –” he began to ask but stopped himself. “Never mind. Take care, love.” With a grimace that was supposed to try to appear like a smile, Remus left the room, the door falling silently closed behind him. Sirius held it together until the latch clicked.

In the emptiness of the hospital room, Sirius began to sob.


	8. Taking Turns Putting Each Other Back Together Again

**_ Remus  _ **

It was exactly what he was dreading. Dreading, but expecting. Sirius had every right to end their relationship after everything that had happened. Remus couldn’t protect him, couldn’t save him from the one thing he truly feared. It didn’t matter that Remus had beaten that fear within an inch of his life. By that point, the damage had already been done, times over.

For a moment, he closed the door to Sirius’ hospital room, leaning against it. If he listened very carefully, he could hear it. Over the electronic murmurs of the monitors, over the persistent beeps coming from the nurses’ station, over the screaming of the patient down the hall asking for more narcotics, he could still hear it. The sound of Sirius crying beyond the door.

It was almost enough to make him turn around and go back inside, almost enough to beg Sirius to let him hold him for just a few minutes, just one last time. He needed Remus just then, after all. Maybe it had been too little too late, but Remus could still help.

 _No_. With a tight, straight jaw, Remus made his way back to the waiting area of the emergency department. The whole group stood, waiting for some report. They all looked so hopeful. Remus tried not to look any of them in the face again as he walked briskly past.

“He’s awake,” Remus said under his breath, not slowing his pace on his way out, trying to choke down the sob that was angrily clawing up his throat. Lily called his name in automatic concern, James shouted it with confusion, Marlene whispered it knowingly. Peter followed.

With their difference in height, and _stride_ , it took Peter a moment to catch up to Remus. When he did, they walked silently for quite some time, Pete surely at a loss of what to say, what to ask, what to _do_. Eventually, worry and curiosity got the better of him.

“What happened, Remus?” he asked softly. Remus took an unsteady breath.

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

“What happened with Remus?” James asked softly, the moment he got the opportunity, and Sirius could tell he’d been waiting the whole time to ask it. Sure, he hadn’t skipped the pleasantries and the ‘ _I’m glad you’re not dead’_ speech and that shoulder thing he often did. But Remus’ abrupt exit was the reason James had come in at all. Sirius took an unsteady breath.

“I ended it with Remus,” Sirius said, flattening his voice, cold and unfeeling.

“ _What_? Why?” James nearly shouted. No, he was definitely shouting.

“The same reason I’m about to tell you to get the hell out,” Sirius responded without yelling back, keeping his voice just as calm and steady as he could, despite the tears in his throat.

“He saved your life, you know,” James argued, completely ignoring the fact that Sirius had just effectively told him to leave. “He _breathed_ for you, Sirius. Literally and figuratively.”

“Did he think I _wanted_ to be saved?” Sirius snapped, before clearing his throat and leveling his tone again. “I took the drugs for a reason, James.” There was a little bit of truth in that statement. Either way, he couldn’t be with Remus. And Remus was all he’d ever wanted.

“He saved you because he can’t live without you!” James continued to shout. “None of us can, don’t you _get_ that?” His face was growing flush, angry tears swelling at his eyelids.

“Don’t _you_ get that it isn’t safe for me here?” Sirius’ voice rose more than he intended, but he had so much more to say. “I’m not safe at home, I’m not safe with Remus, I’m sure as fuck not safe with _you_ anymore!” His voice had begun to crack from the strain.

“With _me_?” James barked. “What the fuck did I do?”

“He was in _your house_!” Sirius screamed, restrained tears finally breaking free, rolling hot down his pale cheeks. “That bastard was in your house!” James went immediately still, except for the desperate tremble in his hands, and he closed his eyes tightly as Sirius continued. “The smell of him is all over your house and all over _Remus_ and I can’t – I can’t –” he had begun to cry again, with the liquid running down his tightened throat keeping his words from coming up.

“Pads, please let me hold you.” James’ voice trembled.

“No!” Sirius shouted, flinging his arm toward James, just in case he tried. “Don’t touch me. I’m not letting anyone touch me ever again,” he mumbled, burying his face into his hands.

“Blame me if you need to,” James said, his voice a little further away. “I swear to you that I didn’t know who he was, or he would’ve _never_ set foot in my house.” His voice drew a little closer then, but only by a fraction. “But don’t blame Remus. Please don’t blame Remus.”

“I know it’s not his fault, I _know_ that,” Sirius moaned, sucking in a wet breath through the tears filling his palms. “Doesn’t change the fact that I can’t _do_ this with him anymore.”

“He’ll smell like Moony again in no time, Pads,” James’ voice was closer, a little softer.

“It’s not just the way he smells,” Sirius whispered underneath a heavy breath. God, did he miss the way Remus smelled – like a forest fire doused in Irish breakfast tea with honey. “Remus was there. _You_ were there. Neither of you could do anything. You can’t keep me safe.”

It wasn’t true. The first half may have been partly true – there was nothing either of them _could have_ possibly done to prevent this, there was no way they could have known that Ethan Carlisle was going to be at that party, much less his name. And the last half of his argument didn’t matter at all. Sirius wasn’t doing this out of concern for his own safety – he was worried about theirs. Being with Sirius was a risk. This was the only way he could get them both to listen.

“No,” James said on an exhale. “No, that’s not it.”

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

“No, that’s not it,” Peter said, straightening his shoulders as they walked through the sliding doors of the hospital. Remus took another breath, ready to explain it all again.

“He doesn’t want to see me anymore, Pete. _That’s_ it. I should’ve prevented this from happening and I didn’t. He doesn’t feel safe with me anymore.” Remembering the way Sirius had spoken to him, bitter and harsh, brought tears back to Remus’ eyes again.

“And I’m not _buying_ that,” Peter argued, fishing a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket before the tears even had time to flood Remus’ vision. He flicked it over in front of Remus.

“You don’t have to buy it, it’s the truth,” Remus sniffled, taking the handkerchief and burying his face into it. It was like burying his face into Peter’s chest, smells of juniper soap and cheap ale and Remus’ smoke, second-hand. It was so bizarrely comforting.

“Remus, he loves you. You know that.”

“No, I _don’t_ know that,” Remus barked back. “He was just a good-looking bloke that I only knew for two weeks who sent me a couple dirty pictures. I can forget the rest if I try.”

“ _Remus_ ,” Peter breathed out in surprise. Remus clenched his teeth.

It wasn’t true. Well, some of it was true. He _had_ only known Sirius for two weeks, there had been some pictures shared. But he couldn’t forget the rest. Not even if he tried. He was only trying to distance himself, to callous himself against Sirius so this didn’t _hurt_ so goddamn much.

“I don’t mean that. Fuck,” Remus groaned, running his hands over his face.

“I know you don’t.”

“I really fucked this up.” Tears had begun to form again. “I almost lost him, Pete.” In a single swoop, Peter hooked his arm around Remus’ neck and dragged him down to his height, pressing Remus’ face to his chest. Bent nearly in half, Remus began to sob into Peter’s chest.

“No,” Peter whispered, steadying himself to bear Remus’ full weight. “You saved him.” He pulled Remus back, wiping a stray tear from Remus’ cheek. “ _You_ found him in that room. _You_ beat the shit out of his abuser. _You_ did. It’s not your fault you didn’t know who he was before.”

Remus let out a shaky breath. “Sirius doesn’t see it that way.”

* * *

**_ Sirius _ **

“I don’t see it that way,” Sirius said with an irritated snort. James took a deep, calming breath to keep from lashing out again. They’d been going back and forth for some time.

“Do you want to know what happened after you left?” James said, his voice tight with restraint. “I had to hold Remus _down_ , Sirius. To keep him from killing that son of a bitch.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, a harsh scoff in his throat. “Remus? You expect me to believe that Remus Lupin, the softest, kindest, most considerate human being _on Earth_ –” James cut him off.

“Do you hear yourself?” James’ voice rose again, not quite to a shout, and Sirius groaned, letting his head fall back into the pillow. “Listen to how you talk about him. You’re mad for him.”

“Which doesn’t mean a fucking thing at this point!” Sirius shot back.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” James said, shaking his head. “You can both get past this, as long as you have each other. That’s how it all started. Just the two of you, getting through.”

“ _I_ _can’t_ get past this. I can’t let this happen again.”

“We know who he is now, Pads. Remus won’t let him come near you ever again.”

“It’s _Remus_ that I’m worried about!” Sirius growled, frustration curling up from his throat as he clenched his fists at his sides. Dammit. He’d said too much. And James knew.

James’ eyes were fixated on Sirius. “I knew there was something you weren’t telling me.”

“There’s _not_ ,” Sirius argued, gritting his teeth.

“You think you’re doing this for Remus?” Sirius knew he couldn’t keep this from James for very long. One thing that James Potter was _not_ was someone who took things at face value.

“I _am_ doing this for Remus. This is better for _him_ , whether he admits that or not.”

“You want to tell that to someone who didn’t watch him walk out of here like his heart had been pulled out through his throat?” James cocked an angry, arrogant eyebrow.

“It’s not that I’m not safe with him.” Sirius’ voice faded as he hung his head. “He’s not safe with _me_ , Prongs.” James seemed to soften at Sirius’ use of his nickname for the first time.

“What do you mean?” His expression softened, too, while his voice remained tired and angry. He moved closer to Sirius’ bed, taking a careful hold of the metal railing.

“Ethan used him against me,” Sirius whispered through a quivering breath, tears pushed from his eyes as he held them closed. “He said if I didn’t do what he wanted, he would go find Remus. He would do it to _Remus_ instead of me.” James’ hands stilled on the bed frame.

“So, it’s a bit of both, then.” Sirius nodded, nearly imperceptibly.

“Remus can’t be used against me, and I can’t be used to get to him. Problem solved.”

“Except that you’re both miserable,” James huffed.

“If it means that Remus is safe from him, then it’s worth it.” Without another word, James began digging through the pockets of his jeans.

“Pete gave this to me before he left,” he said, pulling out an unfamiliar mobile phone from his pocket, tapping away on the screen. “Lucky. They don’t use a passcode.”

“What is this?”

“You said you didn’t believe me when I told you I had to hold Remus down,” he said, taking a breath as if he wasn’t sure what he intended to do. He handed the mobile to Sirius. A video was pulled up on the screen. James reached over and pressed play.

It was Ethan, at the Potter’s house. Sirius’ stomach immediately turned, and he swallowed to keep it down. He was backing into the sitting room, the room where Sirius had first met Remus. He could see that white couch in the corner of the screen. He nearly smiled.

Before he could ask James why he was forcing him to watch this, he saw Remus lunge out from off-screen, his fist colliding loudly with Carlisle’s face. And Carlisle went down instantly.

James spoke softly. “If you think Remus would let this arsehole use him, or _you_ …” he trailed off as Sirius’ eyes widened, watching Remus throw his knee into Carlisle’s chest, pinning him to the ground so he could brutally pummel his face. Sirius was sure he heard the sound of bone cracking. Remus threw as many full-force punches as he was allowed before James pulled him back. Even then, he still struggled violently against James’ hold, shouting curses at Carlisle’s bloody, battered face. “You haven’t seen what Remus is capable of.”

Sirius may have let himself smile at the sight of Carlisle’s blood coating Remus’ fists.

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

For several hours, Remus stood under scalding water in the shower, scrubbing at his skin until he felt sure it would blister from the friction and the heat. He’d emptied three full shampoo bottles over his head, but he was still very certain he could smell the distinct burnt sage of Ethan Carlisle’s cologne buried under his skin. No doubt, Sirius would pick up on it. And if Sirius could smell _him_ on Remus, he wouldn’t even be able to stand next to Remus ever again.

He scoured at his skin until it was raw, so sure that he could still see the dull red of Sirius’ blood on his hands, that he could fill the sickening slip of it between his fingers. It only reminded him of the way that same blood had looked on _Sirius’_ pale skin – the slash of skin along the inside of his arm, the bloody handprint on his face, the devastating gash on his forehead.

At some point, Peter had to break the lock on the bathroom door. Even after, Remus refused to leave the water. It was the only thing that could wash Carlisle away. It was the only thing that was giving him a hope that _someday_ Sirius would forgive him for this.

Eventually, Remus began to cry, a sound that Pete had become achingly familiar with over their history, even over the sound of running water. Peter forced him out of the shower, forced him to get dressed, forced him to lie down. But he didn’t sleep. _Couldn’t_ sleep.

It was dark outside when James texted. Sirius had just been released from the hospital, and James asked Remus to come over, but Remus declined. He wouldn’t be able to look at Sirius without wanting to take him into his arms. And Sirius didn’t want that from him anymore.

Not long after, there was a knock at the front door. Remus let out a breath. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want to acknowledge his own existence, at that point. He just wanted to pretend that everything in his life was part of a bad film that he could turn off. But there was this nagging thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , it would be Sirius.

“Remus, don’t move! I’ll get it in a minute!” Pete called, as if reading Remus’ thoughts, but Pete had gotten in the shower not long after he had coaxed Remus out of his.

After essentially scraping himself from the hole in the mattress his weighted body had dug itself, he shuffled to the door, shoulders hunched. He wondered if he looked as disheveled as he felt, wondered if he appeared as broken externally as he was in his chest.

When he opened the door, he could’ve sworn it was Sirius. The flood of tears that filled his eyes nearly confirmed it. It was the same dark hair, but shorter. The same silver eyes, but narrower. The same chiseled cheekbones, but sharper. The same face, but _different_.

There was a lightness in this stranger’s face that Remus had never seen in Sirius’ expression. This face had never seen heartbreak or abuse or trauma. No gash on his head from being slammed into the edge of a bookshelf. There were no unfathomably dark circles under his eyes. His lips didn’t have the same pucker lines at the corners from years of profuse smoking.

“Remus Lupin?” the voice asked, so similar to Sirius’, but younger and brighter and still so full of optimism. “I think you may be able to help me. My name is Regulus Black.”

* * *

**_ Sirius _ **

Reluctantly, Sirius had agreed to go home with James, after having to listen to James complain for the last several hours about the state of Sirius’ flat. ‘ _Can hardly even call it a flat,’_ James said, and Lily had agreed. ‘ _You don’t even have heat, Sirius_ ,’ she’d said. So, Sirius caved.

It didn’t make going into that house any easier. Didn’t change the fact that they had to go up the stairs to James’ room, which meant they had to pass the hallway where Carlisle had first cornered him and the room where Carlisle had trapped him. Even James’ reassuring arm squeeze didn’t do anything to calm him. He felt the panic attack building in his chest.

In his bedroom in the Potter’s house, he could still see the blood on the white carpet from where he had cut his arm. Automatically, his fingers went to the bandage still above his elbow and he winced, realizing he was digging his fingernails into the wound.

He and Lily went to work on cleaning the room, while James went to talk to his parents about Sirius’ semi-permanent residence in their home. More than once, Sirius cut his fingertips on shards of broken glass hidden within the thick carpet. Glass from the lamp that he had deliberately thrown at Remus’ head, when Remus had smelled like someone else.

Unwillingly, he found himself mesmerized by the dark trickle of blood forming at his skin again, spreading through the grooves of his fingerprints. It sent him spiraling back into the terror he felt when he had torn this very room to pieces. The slip of his hand on the ceramic base of the lamp as he’d launched it from bloody fingers. The fluttering of papers ripped from books he’d jerked from their shelves. The confusion and horror on Remus’ face as he entered the room.

His eyes locked onto the blood on his hand. He wasn’t sure if it were his hands that were shaking or if his vision was unsteady. Just as his breathing started to drop into a familiarly erratic pattern, Lily reached out and placed a white handkerchief over his fingers. He took in a sharp breath. The blood was still there, he could still feel it, could see the shadow of a stain forming on the cloth over his skin, but he didn’t have to see it spill out. He looked up in relief.

Lily smiled carefully. “You don’t have to take care of everything by yourself now.” As Lily spoke, Sirius could only think of Remus. When he was drowning in panic and overwhelmed by grief, Remus had been there to pull him out of it. It felt like Remus had always been there.

But he didn’t have Remus anymore. He’d made sure of that.

A hard swallow in Sirius’ throat sent a reciprocal clench into his jaw. What had been the point of forcing Remus to leave? Like James had said, they _knew_ who Carlisle was now, they would never let him get close again. Not to Sirius, not to Remus. This would never happen again.

Too little, too late. After what Sirius had said to Remus in the hospital, it didn’t matter that Sirius was having second thoughts. He’d _accused_ Remus of letting this happen to him. It couldn’t get more cruel than that. He wouldn’t even _want_ Remus’ forgiveness for that.

The thought of losing Remus evolved into thoughts of losing them all. The loss of Remus would lead to the loss of Peter, which would lead to the loss of James and Lily. Eventually, their bonds with each other would be stronger than _any_ of the bonds they shared with Sirius.

Still holding his hand in a bloody handkerchief, the breath in Sirius’ chest began to shorten and thin. Recognizing that he, _again_ , single-handedly destroyed any and all chance of happiness had been the tipping point. The fear and chaos swirled and boiled over, spilling out from his eyes, crawling up from this throat. He tried to swallow. He tried so hard.

Just when his breaths had become so rapid that they were disappearing altogether, he felt a strong grip on both of his shoulders. His vision cleared long enough for him to look into James’ face, to see the worry in his hazel eyes, the tears shimmering behind square-rimmed glasses, the tight concern in the clench of his sharp jawline, etched with day-old stubble.

As the breath flooded his lungs, so did the reassurance that, if nothing else, he could never lose James Potter. Even if for no other reason than James stubbornly not allowing it.

After James returned, his parents weren’t far behind him. Mrs. Potter had tears in her eyes and, if not for James holding out a careful hand, Sirius thought she might’ve tried to take him into her arms. For some reason, that didn’t incite as much panic as Sirius thought it would.

They told Sirius he could stay as long as he liked. If he wanted to move in permanently, he could. If he wanted them to get all of his old things from his parents’ house, they would. If he wanted them to pay for him to attend James’ school, if he wanted them to adopt him, if he wanted them to let him change his last name to Potter, they would, they would, they _would_.

And Sirius wanted it _all_. He wanted to love and to be loved. He wanted to never see his mother’s silver eyes again, never feel the sting of her jade ring on his cheek, never watch his father stare on in total apathy as his mother spewed slurs at Sirius over the dinner table. He wanted to excommunicate himself from the entire Black family forever.

Until Regulus showed up.

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

It was unnerving. Like looking at a version of Sirius who had never met Ethan Carlisle. His eyes were so bright, like the way Sirius’ had looked under moonlight that night on the roof. He smiled carelessly, like it was a safe thing to do. Sirius’ smile was rarely unguarded.

There was something underneath it all, however. His silver eyes were bright to hide the empty slate below. His smile was careless in a way that Remus could tell was forced. Anyone else probably would’ve taken it at face-value, but Remus knew the way those eyes were supposed to look, the way his laugh should have sounded. It should have sounded more like Sirius.

“You’re a lot easier to look up than my brother,” Regulus said with a laugh that sent an uncomfortable twitch down Remus’ spine. Where Sirius’ laugh was deep and full, Regulus’ laugh was airy and light, almost rehearsed, like his mother had coached him on the proper technique.

“Sirius doesn’t want to be found,” Remus said carefully, a tension in his throat that accompanied the natural clenching of his jaw when he spoke to a stranger. Especially one wearing a younger, happier version of a face he was hopelessly in love with.

Regulus looked down at his hands, folded on the table. “Now I know why.” There was a spark of something terrible in the sterling of Regulus’ eyes that reminded him of Sirius so much that he felt something like relief in his chest, felt it begin to spread out over his expression.

“Then why are you here?” Remus reverted back to defense.

“There’s a video from last night circulating among the students at my uni,” Regulus said with such a clinical, shrewd tone that Remus had to wonder of his intentions. When Regulus flicked his gaze up to meet Remus’, that wonder turned to concern. “It shows you, Remus Lupin, beating Dr. Ethan Carlisle into the floor. Looks like you might’ve killed him, if given the chance.”

With nearly a growl, Remus leaned over the table to look the younger Black full in the face, holding his gaze with violent intent. “Did you come here to threaten me?” The borderline dangerous expression on Regulus’ face immediately slipped, sparked out like a broken light bulb.

“No, I …” he started softly, looking back down at his hands. “I came here to find out if what you said was true.” When he looked back up, there was sorrow evident in his eyes.

“About Sirius?” Remus clarified, and he couldn’t help but notice the tremble that went into Regulus’ lip as he nodded. “Every word was true. That son of a bitch ruined Sirius’ life.”

Regulus took in a deep, staggering breath. “Because of _me_.”

“No, it wasn’t _because_ of you, it –” Remus tried to argue, but Regulus cut him off.

“My parents have seen the video,” Regulus said, clearing his throat, taking the emotion in his voice with it. How easy it was for him to transition between emotion and emptiness. “They’re trying to convince Dr. Carlisle to press assault charges against you.” An immediate chill went into Remus’ bloodstream, surging through his heart and stinging like ice water.

“And is he?” Remus asked, trying to keep the snarl out from his lips.

“It doesn’t appear so. And the only reason he _wouldn’t_ ,” Regulus began, his breathing becoming unstable again, “is if you’re right and he doesn’t want the truth to get out.”

“Is that why you’re here? To convince me to keep my mouth shut?” Remus snapped, knowing the fatigue and anxiety was affecting his tone and tongue.

“Remus,” Regulus replied softly. “I’m here because Sirius is my brother. I’m here because I didn’t know.” He paused to take a breath. “I’m here because I found out he’s not the only one.”

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

It was unnerving. Like looking at a version of himself from two years earlier. One who didn’t know the monster hiding in the skin of Ethan Carlisle, one who didn’t know what taking ten Valium at a time would do, one who had never overdosed on narcotics.

“Hi, Sirius,” Regulus said, rather sheepishly, as he walked into the Potter’s kitchen, where Sirius was seated at the table, a cup of chamomile tea in his hands, now shaking.

“Reg,” he said, feeling his voice trembling as he stood. But he froze in his place, barely finding the strength in his hands to return the teacup to the table. Regulus wasn’t alone.

Remus walked in behind him.

“ _Moony_.” The breath fell from his lungs in the shape of Remus’ name, and Remus’ eyes, as golden as the honey in Sirius’ tea, were locked tight to his immediately. The circles under Remus’ eyes were black, the whites of his eyes burned red. His skin was ashen underneath them.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, averting his eyes from Sirius’, as if he thought he didn’t have the right to look Sirius in the face. Sirius’ heart howled with ache. “I had to bring him here.”

Sirius’ gaze directed quickly back to Regulus, filled with venom. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I’ve been? Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” he snapped. Regulus lowered his head, but kept his eyes, eyes just like their mother’s, fixated on Sirius.

Everyone else in the room stood stone-still, Mrs. Potter hovering near the doorway, close to Regulus, should there arise a need to throw him out of the house. Sirius wasn’t sure there wouldn’t be. Remus still hadn’t looked Sirius in the face a second time.

“I don’t have to ask, Sirius. I _know_ ,” Regulus said under a hard swallow, his silver gaze shooting down to stare at his nervous fingers, as they had begun fiddling with the hem of his dark green shirt. The colour of their mother’s heirloom ring.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve known all along,” Sirius bit back, feeling the burn of his speech on his lips. “Your mother did.” The look in Regulus’ eyes that followed wasn’t what Sirius expected. There was genuine surprise there. Surprise and anger and disgust.

“You told her about … that he was …”

“And she did _nothing_ ,” Sirius growled behind snarled lips. “No, more than nothing. She encouraged it, Reg.” A quick flick of Sirius’ gaze over to Remus found him curling and uncurling his fists as his sides, the muscles of his throat tensing deeply as he clenched his jaw.

“Why would she –” Regulus started, eyes wide. And Sirius lost all control.

“For _you_!” he shouted, slamming his fist down onto the table, rattling the teacup in its saucer. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius watched tears begin to fall down Remus’ cheeks. “Do you want to know what your mother said to me the night I left home? The thing that finally made me leave?” Sirius’ voice trembled as he spoke, his hand followed in like pattern. “She told me that nothing was as important as you. Not my future, not my sanity, not my _life_. **You**.”

Sirius startled at the sight of tears in his younger brother’s eyes. Not since they were children had he seen Regulus cry, because Regulus took after their mother. Cold, calculating, cynical. Sirius wasn’t sure who _he_ took after, but he was nothing like them. Nothing like Regulus.

Or, so he thought. Regulus didn’t try to hide it, didn’t try to wipe them away. He let the tears flow down his cheeks and he met Sirius’ gaze under them. The usual dull iron grey of his scathing gaze was polished out into the same mercury that Sirius saw in the mirror.

“I wish you would’ve told _me_ instead,” Regulus breathed out in a broken voice and, without hesitation, Sirius stood and took the boy’s trembling frame into his arms, burying his face into the hair curling around Regulus’ ears.

“I shouldn’t have said that. This isn’t your fault,” Sirius whispered.

“But you did it for me,” Regulus sniffled. Sirius nodded, gathering up a handful of Regulus’ shirt into his fist. He held it so hard, it shuddered against Regulus’ back.

“I did it to protect you from him,” Sirius sighed. From over Regulus’ shoulder, Sirius looked up to find Remus, watching him carefully, tears still streaming down his cheeks. His bottom lip quivered, eyebrows drawn tight as Sirius met his gaze. “I didn’t want to take the risk of putting you in my place. If he had done something to you, I would never be able to forgive myself.” He wasn’t just talking to Regulus. With a harsh furrow in his brow, Remus nodded.

“That’s what I came here to tell you,” Regulus said, pulling back and dragging the back of his hand over his face. “He didn’t touch _me_ , but he certainly didn’t stop with you.”

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

There were at least five other male students at the university who had been coerced into doing Carlisle sexual favors for grades, for admission, for _anything_ Carlisle could use as a bargaining chip. Remus could tell just listening to it was making Sirius ill.

Before he had even been able to track down Remus, Regulus had already convinced them all that they needed to come forward. With Sirius’ confession, the most damning and most damaging of them all, they would _at least_ be able to get Carlisle removed from his position.

It took a long time to convince Sirius of that. After all that happened, it was reasonable that he wanted no part in it. Especially because, if they were to proceed with this, it would mean Sirius would have to go to court. He would have to testify. He would be forced to relive all the insidious things that Ethan Carlisle had done to him over the last several months. In great detail.

 _Together_ , Regulus assured him. That was the only way it could work, if they all spoke up together. At some point, Regulus had called their mother, put her on speaker. The look on Sirius’ face when he heard his own mother’s voice was terrifying. Some afflicted mix of fury and horror and regret. An amalgamation of emotions that Remus never wanted to see on his face again.

Regulus had told her that he’d found Sirius. Her response to finding out her first-born son was alive after all this time incited a wrath in Remus’ gut that he’d never felt before.

‘ _Tell him not to come home. Your grades were better after he left,’_ she had said flatly to Regulus, knowing full fucking well that Sirius was there, listening. With no change in expression, Sirius nodded and excused himself from the table, walking toward the stairs. As Remus followed after, he could hear Regulus growling into the receiver, placed close to teeth clenched tight.

“You hateful, sodding witch. Carlisle may have been the one to put his hands on Sirius, but you fucking did this to him, too.” Remus may have let himself nod along to that.

At Sirius’ closed bedroom door, Remus paused. He’d followed Sirius out of habit, but they weren’t together anymore. Would Sirius even have wanted Remus to follow?

He sent a rapid series of knocks to Sirius’ door and entered before given permission. He hadn’t just come for Regulus. He hadn’t come to convince Sirius to press charges against Ethan Carlisle. He had come to make sure Sirius was alright. He had come to win Sirius back.

“Are you alright?” he asked, closing the door behind him. Just like the last time they had entered this room, one after the other, Sirius stood in the center of the room, watching the door, as if he knew Remus had followed him. As if he knew Remus would always follow him.

“She didn’t say anything I didn’t expect her to say,” Sirius said with a heavy sigh. “But Reg is on my side now. He’s the only one I actually care about.” A short, but not angry laugh slipped from Sirius lips, and Remus went soft at the sound of it. Sirius’ expression went hard again, however, as he let his gaze fall back to the floor. “Why did you come, Remus?” 

Remus took a breath. “I came because there’s something we need to talk about.”

“We do,” Sirius agreed with a sigh. “You know why I said what I said the hospital.”

“I know. I also know that you’re wrong about it,” Remus argued, feeling a nervous tension well up in his chest, spreading into his throat. “I’ll make sure that you’re safe with me.” 

“Next time?” Sirius asked, pursing his lips.

“There won’t be a next time, Sirius. I’ll never let him come within ten meters of you.”

“You can’t be everywhere, Remus.”

“I can be everywhere _you_ are.”

“Why would you _want_ to be?” Sirius asked, surprisingly calm. Remus, on the other hand, was growing increasingly manic, feeling like this was his one and only chance of having this conversation with Sirius, his only chance at convincing Sirius to stay with him.

“Because I’m madly in lo–”

“Don’t say that to me, Remus,” Sirius spat, turning on his heels, burying his hands into his long, dark hair, and Remus’ heart tightened at remembering when _he_ was able to do that. “You don’t even know me. You know a version of me that I’ve elected to let you see. It’s not me.”

Remus scoffed. “ _Don’t_ ,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Don’t try to tell me that all those things you’ve said to me aren’t real. Don’t tell me the way you look at me isn’t real.” Sirius was still refusing to look at him, causing the panicked tremors in his heart to expand and multiply. “I know who you are, Sirius. And I want to keep you, if you’ll let me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be kept!” Sirius shouted, throwing his hands down and wincing at the pain it left in his bandaged arm. “Maybe I want to be left alone. Maybe I want to die alone.”

“Even if I thought that were true, I still wouldn’t let you.”

“Why are you so bloody attached to me?” Sirius laughed, biting and bitter. “We’re terrible for each other. We both have too much shit to deal with _alone_ , much less together.”

“We’re terrible for each other? Really?” Remus said, returning a sardonic laugh of his own and stepping in close. “Before last night, neither of us had ever been better.” 

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” Sirius snapped, taking in a step, as well. “Look at me, Remus, I’m torn to pieces. I _overdosed_ yesterday. We just keep taking turns watching each other fall apart.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Remus said, turning the tone of his voice down as he got closer to Sirius, surprised that Sirius was letting him get close at all. “Because what we’re doing is taking turns putting each other back together again.” His chest was nearly pressed to Sirius’, and Sirius’ gaze was traveling over every one of his features, over every scar, over every freckle. When he took a deep breath in, prepared to counter, a strange, distant look washed over his expression and he took a very large step back, shaking it from his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth.

Remus winced, realization stinging. “ _Shit_. Do I … do I still not smell like … me?” he tried to phrase it without saying Carlisle’s name, not wanting to add fuel to a dangerous fire. Sirius chewed on his bottom lip, keeping his eyes drawn to the floor.

“It’s not … you don’t … I’m not sure,” he said, eyes darting frantically. Was he _lying_?

“Come over here and find out for sure,” Remus said, a tinge of irritation in the back of his throat. He knew, _knew_ when he got out of that shower that there was lingering sage in his skin.

Carefully, without looking up at Remus, Sirius took several small steps in, inching his face rather close to Remus’ throat. Remus tried to stay as still as possible, but he knew Sirius would be able to see the chaotic throbbing of his pulse through the veins in his neck.

Sirius breathed him in, softly at first, and then deep and full, nearly pressing his nose to Remus’ chest. His face moved up and the bridge of his nose brushed along the underside of Remus’ jaw. This time, Remus was the one to take in a rather deep breath.

“You don’t _quite_ smell like you,” Sirius whispered, his voice as deep as it was when he was telling Remus all the things he wanted to do to him, that night on the phone. It sent a familiar shiver into Remus’ spine, and Remus couldn’t stifle it. He raised his head as Sirius continued. “It’s _you_ , but artificially sweetened,” he laughed softly. Not anything like the frightening, acrid laughs he’d huffed out earlier. This was the laugh that made Remus’ heart sing.

“It must be Pete’s cocoa butter shampoo,” Remus laughed. “I emptied the whole bottle.”

“You should use it from now on,” Sirius said quickly.

“From … now on?” Remus clarified, but Sirius spoke again, his tone softer.

“I thought I was … protecting you. By keeping you away,” Sirius sighed deeply. “I’m still not sure you won’t be better off without me. I’m more fucked up than ever.”

“I promise you, I could never be better off witho–” Remus started, but Sirius shook his head. With a trembling sigh, Sirius placed his forehead onto Remus’ collarbone, his face already drenched in tears that Remus hadn’t seen. Remus fought the instinct to hold him.

In a small voice, choked with tears and terror, Sirius said, “Is it selfish of me to want to keep you? To force you to stay and be fucked up with me?” Without hesitating, Remus replied.

“I have never wanted anything more than to let you keep me, Pads.”

“ _Please_ ,” Sirius breathed out. “Hold onto me, Moony,” Sirius said, his hands nervously resting on Remus’ waist, sending a quiver into Remus’ skin.

“Sirius, don’t let me push yo–” Remus cautioned, holding his hands at his sides.

“My life is ten different ways to fucked up,” Sirius growled, Remus could feel the press of Sirius’ canines snarling into his shoulder. “My mother would prefer me dead. I’m still wearing the hospital band round my wrist from overdosing. I’m going to have to face my abuser in court.” He paused to take in a shaking breath. “I’m ruined as a person and we might never get to Gold again because everything is so fucking Black and I _still_ …” His manic voice had raised to a near shout when he suddenly stopped, chancing a delicate glimpse up at Remus, the return of his glorious, swirling mercurial eyes, teary and pleading, “want you to hold me.”

Delicately, Remus raised his arms, circling his hands over Sirius’ shoulders, trying to find the perfect spot to place them without inciting panic. Nothing was safe, nothing was sure. Sirius had been through more in the last 24-hours than Remus had ever intended to let him. Despite that, Sirius was standing in front of him, with his shaking hands sliding around Remus’ waist, barely touching the threads of his shirt, and begging Remus to hold him.

As Remus tightened his hold, pulling Sirius close to his chest, Sirius began to sob, shoulders shuddering, breathing stilted. His hands wound up behind Remus’ back and he gripped onto his shirt desperately, as he had done with Regulus only hours before.

Sirius cried. He cried for a long time.

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

The moment he heard the quick triple-knock at his door, he knew Remus had followed him. Truthfully, he’d hoped that Remus would. There was a lot they needed to talk about. The question was whether or not Sirius could say what he needed to say.

“Are you alright?” Remus asked, his voice as soft and as sweet as it had ever been. Sirius could feel the weighted pause in the air as Remus debated whether or not to close the door behind him, knowing he was arguing with himself about whether it would help or hinder.

“She didn’t say anything I didn’t expect her to say,” Sirius said about his mother, who ultimately had just told his younger brother that she’d rather Sirius were dead. “Reg is on my side now. He’s the only one I actually care about.” The memory of his Uncle Alphard passed through his thoughts, leaving him to wonder if any of this would’ve happened if he had been brought up by his uncle instead of his worthless parents.

Maybe if he had grown up in a home where he was loved, he wouldn’t have tried to seek it out so carelessly from people who only gave it conditionally. Maybe he would’ve had friends who had been there to protect him from people like Carlisle. Maybe he would’ve met Remus sooner and they wouldn’t have to use a colour scale to measure the safety of a touch.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to force Remus out of his life to save him from it.

“Why did you come, Remus?” he asked, his voice retracting and short. Remus barely even took a breath before he was speaking, and Sirius tried not to look up at him.

“I came because there’s something we need to talk about,” he replied, the pleading in his voice working to crack Sirius’ hardened exterior. Sirius let out a very long sigh, trying to make a last-moment decision on what he was going to do about Remus.

Because Remus was here to change his mind. He was here to convince Sirius that he was wrong and that they should be together and that they could be happy. Which was total bullshit.

Nothing they would ever do together would be happy – not like regular people. Not like James and Lily. There would always be nights when Remus would wake up screaming, his scars searing like there was an instrument still buried within his skin. There would always be days when Sirius would _smell_ something vaguely reminiscent of Ethan Carlisle and have to shut up in solitude for a few hours or a few days. Normal people, _happy_ people don’t fucking do that.

“We do,” Sirius steeled himself with a solid nod. “You know why I said what I said at the hospital.” He didn’t look up. He didn’t want to see the look on Remus’ face.

“I know,” Remus surprisingly agreed, before continuing. “I also know you’re wrong about it.” There it was. The inevitable argument. “I’ll make sure you’re safe with me.”

“What, next time?” Sirius asked, trying so hard to place the blame of this implosion of a relationship onto Remus so that he didn’t have to feel this insufferable guilt.

“There won’t be a next time, Sirius,” Remus said, moving his foot inward but pulling it back quickly. “I’ll never let him come within ten meters of you.”

Sirius let out an irritated sigh. “You can’t be everywhere, Remus.”

“I can be everywhere _you_ are,” he countered, the sincerity slipping from his lips like heat, a warmth that Sirius could feel in the air, that he could pull his hands through and see waves.

“Why would you want to be?” Sirius asked, feeling the honesty that poured from Remus’ mouth seeping under his skin until all he wanted to do was speak truths.

“Because I’m madly in lov–” Sirius cut him off quickly.

“Don’t say that to me, Remus,” he pulled his hands through his hair in frustration. The only person in his life who had ever told him that he loved him was his uncle and he had been taken away from him. It was a curse to love Sirius Black. He wouldn’t let Remus suffer that. “You don’t even know me. You know a version of me that I’ve elected to let you see. It’s not me.”

Remus let an unguarded breath slip through his teeth. “ _Don’t_ ,” he said, teeth clenched so tight that he was nearly seething. “Don’t try to tell me that everything you’ve said to me isn’t real.” Remus was trying so hard to get Sirius to look at him. Sirius still refused. “Don’t tell me the way you look at me isn’t real. I _know_ who you are, Sirius,” he said on an outward breath that trembled. “And I want to keep you. If you’ll let me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be kept!” Sirius shouted, tossing clenched fists out to his sides before grimacing at the pain it left in the gash inside his elbow. “Maybe I want to be left alone,” he continued in a much softer tone. “Maybe I want to die alone.” Remus didn’t miss a step.

“Even if I thought that were true, I still wouldn’t let you.”

The laugh from Sirius’ lips was calloused and stinging. “Why are you so bloody attached to me? We’re terrible for each other. We both have too much shit to deal with _alone_ , much less together.” There was immediate argument boiling up from Remus’ throat.

“We’re terrible for each other? Really?” Remus said, his voice rising as he took a step toward Sirius. “Before last night, neither us had ever been better.” Forgetting boundaries, forgetting his focus, Sirius took in an equal step toward Remus.

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” he growled. “Look at me, Remus, I’m torn to pieces. I overdosed yesterday We just keep taking turns watching each other fall apart.” Remus barely let him finish.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Remus said, lowering his tone and stepping in just a bit further. “Because what we’re doing is taking turns putting each other back together again.” With Remus so close, Sirius almost forgot that they were arguing – he let his eyes travel over the scars on Remus’ cheeks, the freckles that were blurred out beneath them, the way his honey-coloured eyes looked dark within the black circles framing them.

For a moment, Sirius remembered himself, remembered he was supposed to be fighting this, supposed to be pushing Remus away. He took in a sharp, deep breath to clear his mind, to speak it. Where he expected a rush of clean air, he got aloe and clove, tobacco and sweat, overly sweetened tea and under-sweetened dark chocolate. He breathed in _Remus_.

There was nothing left of the argument in his chest. No longer could he recall the reason he was trying to push Remus away in the first place. All he could think about was the way Remus held him after he found out about Fenrir, the way Remus had kissed him on the roof, the way Remus had danced with him last night at the party before it had all gone to shit.

“Fuck,” he stammered, voice wavering. He held his mouth to cover it up. Remus, in fear he had done something very wrong, took an overly generous step backward to fix it.

“Shit,” he hissed, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Do I still …” he paused, careful to phrase is as delicately as possible. “Do I still not smell like me?”

Sirius kept his eyes on the floor to try to revive his resolve, but it was fading fast as the memories of everything Remus had ever done for him built on each other.

“It’s not …” he tried to explain without admitting the truth. “You don’t … I’m not sure.”

“Come over here and find out for sure,” Remus said, his voice bordering on a demand and a plea in the same breath. His fingers trembled as he held them over his face.

Before Sirius had even taken a step, he knew where this would end. And would it really be that bad? Would letting Remus Lupin love him really be as dangerous as he was making it out to be? After all, Sirius had seen that video. Remus was more than capable of protecting Sirius, and himself, against anything that dared to threaten either of them.

As he stepped in, craning his neck to level his face to Remus’ throat, the warmth and the collection of scents that was so unequivocally Remus Lupin greeted him like an old friend. But there was something _different_ here, something that enhanced Remus’ natural sweetness. 

Sirius took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and wishing he could take Remus into his arms. Just to spite himself, or maybe to test himself, he let the bridge of his nose slide softly just underneath the sharp curve of Remus’ jawline. The touch didn’t terrify him as expected. It didn’t nauseate him. He didn’t retract. Remus didn’t either, though he did draw in an unsteady breath.

“You don’t _quite_ smell like you,” Sirius stated in a whisper, feeling the wave of his own breath circle back at him from where it puffed out against Remus’ skin. That used to be a trigger, feeling even the warmth of his own breath against his face. It used to feel suffocating. Now, it was like the contact of Remus’ skin had cleansed it, made it _his_ and made it whole.

Intentional or not, Sirius couldn’t quite tell, Remus let his head fall back, leaving the open expanse of his throat for Sirius to take, should he want it. After everything that had happened the night before, he shouldn’t have wanted it. Given his history, he was surprised to even be in James’ house, much less a moment away from being tangled in Remus’ arms.

If this had all happened a month ago, he would’ve run. He would’ve found a new drug dealer in a new city and cursed himself for ever trying to make friends, ever trying to move on with his life. A month ago, he would’ve succeeded in that overdose.

But a month ago, he didn’t have Remus Lupin.

“It’s _you_ ,” Sirius continued softly, allowing himself to laugh for the first time in what felt like much more than a few hours. “It’s you, but … artificially sweetened.” At the sound of a spark in Sirius’ voice, Remus softened terribly, nearly draping himself limply over Sirius.

Remus recovered, slightly, and let himself give a soft, careful laugh in response. “It must be Pete’s cocoa butter shampoo. I emptied the whole bottle.”

“You should use it from now on,” Sirius said, before he could change his mind. For a moment, Remus stiffened, like he immediately understood the implication.

“From … now on?” he repeated, his voice turning up.

“I thought I was protecting you by keeping you away.” A heavy sigh pressed from Sirius’ lips. “I’m still not sure you won’t be better off without me. I’m more fucked up than ever.”

“I promise you, I could never be better off without you,” Remus assured him, but Sirius shook his head. The truth was, Remus _might_ be better off without Sirius – he might find someone normal, someone undamaged, someone easier than Sirius. But Sirius wasn’t ready to let him try. The tears he had been trying to stifle during this conversation began to pour out as he let his head fall onto Remus’ shoulder. Through the bitter tears in his throat, he spoke.

“Is it selfish of me to want to keep you? To force you to stay and be fucked up with me?”

As usual, Remus knew exactly what to say to make Sirius fall apart in his hands. “I have never wanted anything more than to let you keep me, Pads.” The tears in Sirius’ eyes flooded until he couldn’t see. But he could hear – he could hear the gentle but erratic rhythm of Remus’ breathing as he struggled against his natural reaction to wrap his arms around Sirius. While Sirius understood his reluctance, he couldn’t stand letting it continue, for either of them.

“Please,” he breathed out into the threads of Remus’ shirt. “Hold onto me, Moony.”

“Sirius, don’t let me –” Remus began, but Sirius carefully slipped his hands around Remus’ waist, locking them gently behind Remus’ back.

“My life is ten different ways to fucked up,” Sirius started angrily, burrowing a tight snarl into Remus’ shoulder. “My mother would prefer me dead, I’m still wearing the hospital band round my wrist from overdosing, I’m going to have to face my abuser in court.” He had to stop himself, to remember to breathe. “I’m ruined as a person and we might never get to Gold again because everything is so fucking Black,” he rambled manically, his hands twitching where they were clasped behind Remus. “And I _still_ want you to hold me.”

Finally, he let himself look up, look full into Remus’ face, worn with terror and dread and exhaustion, but Remus’ expression washed it all away. The gold in his eyes returned, swallowing their former dark circles in a ring of grace and light that spread to his pale pink lips.

Slowly, as if not to startle Sirius out of it, Remus moved his arms from his sides, but it took several moments before Sirius could feel them around his shoulders. When Remus finally curved his arms around Sirius, Sirius fell apart. Remus only held him tighter. Together, they stood there for a long time, while Sirius sobbed into Remus’ chest.

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

For the rest of the night, Sirius kept Remus within literal reach. Somehow, Sirius even convinced him to stay, even though Remus was absolutely terrified of doing something wrong or making things worse. They had stayed in Sirius’ room throughout the night – Regulus slept on the couch downstairs, Pete had taken the room right next door to Sirius’, the same room he’d slept in the first time they’d all stayed over at James’ house. The night Remus met Sirius.

For several hours, they’d been wrapped up in each other, tucked away in Sirius’ bed, with Remus half-reclined on a tall stack of Sirius’ pillows and Sirius lying between his legs, face in Remus’ chest. Surprisingly, there had been no panic about being touched, no flinching, no stiffening. A constant physical contact between them, _kept_ constant by Sirius. Any time Remus made a move to separate them, or asked if Sirius’ needed space, Sirius clawed desperately at him until he was so far buried in Remus’ chest that there was no use arguing.

They slept very little. Sirius didn’t want to face the possibility of a nightmare, so they stayed awake together. For most of the night, Sirius asked Remus to talk. Just talk. Even if it was nonsense, even if it didn’t mean anything. He just needed the constancy of Remus’ voice, he’d said. At first, Remus just talked about life before he met Sirius – what classes he’d taken at university before this term, where he met Pete, growing up in Wales with his parents.

Eventually, he talked about Fenrir. It started superficial enough. Talking about Fenrir to other people often felt awkward, because Remus knew the way he talked about Fenrir sometimes could be a bit too personal for most people. Not personal in the sense of graphic or violent or brutal, but personal in the mundane, in the times during those eight months when Fenrir _wasn’t_ carving a sigil into his skin. A lot of people couldn’t cope with it.

Because they didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that Fenrir had to feed Remus to keep him alive or bathe him to keep him from dying from an infection to any of the wounds he’d etched into Remus’ skin. They didn’t want to hear that Fenrir was a human being with parents who were totally oblivious to the child being held against his will in the basement under their feet when they visited on Sundays. They didn’t want to think about Fenrir being able to hold down a job because he blended into society just fine. Most people didn’t want to think about it because they didn’t want to remind themselves how easily Fenrir pretended to be _normal_.

Not Sirius. The more Remus talked about Fenrir, the more questions Sirius asked. It was strange for Remus to be happy to answer, but he was just happy that Sirius was talking to him, happy that Sirius hadn’t shut him out of his life. Happy that Sirius was _alive_.

“Did anyone ever see you there?” Sirius asked with a soft voice, quiet with a want for sleep, but a desperate need to keep it away. “In the house?”

“A few times,” Remus recalled, trying to keep his memories clinical and not get too caught up in the ugly parts of them. “He always had a really good story. Always very believable.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said with a sigh, and Remus knew they weren’t _just_ talking about Fenrir. He steered the conversation back, so that Sirius didn’t feel obligated to add anything else.

“That’s how they found me, eventually,” he said, shifting back against the headboard and flexing his grip around Sirius’ shoulders. “The right person saw the wrong thing.”

“That’s the key, isn’t it?” Sirius said bitterly. “The _right_ person.”

Remus couldn’t hold back his biting response. “I don’t think I’ve ever hated another person’s mother before, but _your_ mother is a superb candidate of that honor.” Sirius took in a sharp breath, and, for a moment, Remus was afraid he’d said the wrong thing. Dammit.

“Oh, it’s rather easy once you’ve had as much practice as I have.” After a moment of stunned silence on Remus’ part, Sirius let out a delicate, tired laugh. And Remus melted.

“I’m sure James’ mum has the adoption papers already ready to sign,” Remus replied with a smile and the small laugh in Sirius’ throat evolved and grew and warmed.

“You joke, but I’ve already filed for a legal name change.”

Remus was ready with the quip. “But I haven’t even proposed yet, Padfoot.” This time, it was Sirius’ turn to pause in charged silence, while Remus leaned back with a smile.

“Sirius Lupin,” he finally said, his voice wistful, stroking the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “That’s _much_ better than Potter. I’d marry you for your name alone, Moony.”

“You can have it, love,” Remus whispered, placing his lips into Sirius’ hair. “And the heart that goes with it.” Any trace of tension in Sirius’ shoulders slipped away as Sirius snuggled down into Remus’ arms, burying his face further into the folds of Remus’ shirt.

“You know,” he said slowly, a secret threaded through his voice. “I think I might like to fall in love with you, Moony.” Over a surprised smile, Remus let his weary eyes fall closed.

Again, Remus spoke promises into his skin. “I may have already beaten you to it.”

The early morning after was the hardest. They’d stayed up so long into the night, but eventually exhaustion overtook them both and they fell asleep the same way they had stayed awake, tangled in each other limbs and buried beyond separation in their embrace.

When Remus woke, it was with a start – to writhing and screaming and struggling. His eyes adjusted quickly to the minimal morning light already in the room, finding the clock on Sirius’ bedside table. They’d only been asleep less than an hour.

 _Shit_. They’d fallen _asleep_. More specifically, Remus had fallen asleep with Sirius wound tightly in his arms. If Sirius were to wake from a nightmare in that condition – feeling like he was being held down, like he was being restrained – of _course_ he would react violently.

And he _was_. His arms flung wildly around him to try and break free, despite how immediately Remus let go of him. A stray elbow collided with Remus’ cheekbone, not too far from the last bruise Remus had sustained when saving Sirius from Carlisle in that dark room.

“Pads, it’s me!” Remus called, but he moved out of Sirius’ bed all the same, trying to let Sirius feel the distance between them, to assure him that he was untouched. “It’s Moony.”

It took a few moments for Sirius to settle. When he did, even in the bare light of the room, Remus could see him reaching out, hands shaking uncontrollably.

“Moony?” Sirius called into the still darkness, moving his hands around in front of him, as if searching for Remus. Carefully, Remus reached out, taking Sirius’ hands into his own.

“It’s me, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Remus assured him, tenderly stroking the back of his hand, trying to define the limit for himself. Ever since Sirius had gotten out of the hospital, they’d been at some surrogate level of comfort that wasn’t any of the levels they’d already defined. It was a separate entity, one where Remus left absolutely every decision about touch up to Sirius, but Sirius acted like it wasn’t a decision at all. Like he couldn’t sustain life without Remus’ touch.

“Moony, I need you,” Sirius’ voice trembled in the dark, his fingers clawing up Remus’ arms to pull him in, and Remus moved closer to let him. As soon as Sirius’ face was buried in the curve of Remus’ throat, he let out a deep, heavy sigh of relief, like a physical release of pain.

“You’re with me now,” Remus whispered into his hair, peppering careful, delicate kisses to the top of Sirius’ head. “You were having a nightmare, but you’re with me now.”

Sirius let out a sharp breath. “I was with you in the nightmare, too.” With a stone in his gut, Remus went still. From the moment he found out that Carlisle had used him as a tool to force Sirius to bend to his will, Remus had been trying to fight down the seething acid boiling up from his stomach. There was a part of him that wished James hadn’t stopped him.

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t real. _This_ is real, Sirius,” Remus breathed out into Sirius’ skin, while trying to calm his own breathing. He wasn’t _just_ angry at Carlisle, he wasn’t _just_ angry at Sirius’ mother. He was angry at himself. Angry that he hadn’t seen Carlisle for what he was, angry that he had spoken so amicably with Carlisle moments before he assaulted Sirius, angry that he had left the bedroom at all. If he had left James to find Pete on his own, he never would’ve left Sirius alone and Sirius never would’ve left to find him. None of this would’ve happened.

“You’re always trapped,” Sirius replied in a shaking whisper. “In my dreams, you’re always chained up or locked away. Sometimes I can hear you screaming for me from another room. Sometimes you’re right in front of me, but you’re bound and gagged. Or muzzled.”

Remus chanced craning down to kiss Sirius’ forehead, so Sirius could feel his lips against bare skin. “There’s no muzzle,” Remus mumbled against him. “Otherwise, I couldn’t kiss you.”

In a flash of movement that left Remus’ eyes wide, Sirius moved his face from Remus’ chest and firmly planted his lips against Remus’, his hands knotted tightly into the fabric of Remus’ shirt. He spoke into Remus’ mouth, before replacing his words with his tongue.

“Kiss me _harder_ , Moony.” His voice bordered on demanding, his hands traveling down to Remus’ hips, pulling him in as close as he could physically get. The kiss was so wild and frantic that Remus almost couldn’t convince himself to pull away from it. He lost himself in it; lost in the desperate pull of Sirius’ hands, moving Remus’ clothes out of the way to find bare skin, lost in the aching whimpers dragging up unbridled from Sirius’ throat when he found that skin.

But the skin his fingers found wasn’t enough to satiate the madness in his touch. He started _tearing_ at Remus’ clothes, until there was skin underneath his hands that had never been there before, until Remus’ joggers were halfway off his hips.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus called out breathlessly, reluctantly slipping his tongue from Sirius’ mouth and holding Sirius’ hands still before they could reach other vital parts of Remus’ skin. “Talk to me.” But Sirius fought him, curving his leg around Remus’ hips to pull him in farther.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” he panted, puffing out as angry breath in Remus’ direction, as he twisted his wrist within Remus’ hand until he got control of it. “I want you to touch me.” Almost before Remus could stop him, he was dragging Remus’ hand down his torso.

“No, _wait_.” Remus slipped his hand back before it could do any real damage. “No, Pads, you have to talk to me. This can’t really be what you want right now.”

“You have no fucking idea what I want, Remus,” Sirius snapped back, his canines glinting from underneath a snarled lip. “What I want is to stop being afraid.”

“And you think forcing me to do something you’re clearly not ready for is going to accomplish that?” Remus stated, before retracting a bit. “Pads, this won’t solve anything.”

“Maybe it will!” Sirius said, his quivering voice rising to just below a shout. “I have to try _something_ because when I close my eyes, he’s all I see. And it should be _you_ ,” he swallowed hard, finally looking up into Remus’ eyes. “I want it to be you. I want it with you.”

With a cautious smile, Remus tucked the hair behind Sirius’ ear, letting his fingers trail along the curve of his stubbled jaw. “Trust me, I want it, too. The only thing I want more is for _you_ to want it as much as I do.” With a quiet breath, Sirius leaned into his touch.

“What if I never get there?” Sirius asked, his voice small and soft. Remus just shrugged.

“Then I’ll be celibate,” he said with a breathy laugh. He was surprised when Sirius laughed with him, the sight of it was enough to send a rapid, aching flutter into his chest.

“You?” Sirius scoffed. “Have you met yourself? You’re the most sexual person I know.”

Remus grinned wide, eyebrow cocked high. “Only because you’re around.”

“And I’ll always be around. So you being celibate is a _joke_ , Moony.”

“Then I’ll take care of it myself. In the shower.”

“That’s assuming we’ll shower separately, which is also a joke.”

“We shower separately _now_ , Padfoot.” Remus smiled affectionately at him.

“Only because we have to?” Sirius scoffed loudly before mumbling. “Would if I could.”

“You’re not giving me much to work with here,” Remus laughed softly, working Sirius back into his arms and settling back down into the pillows. The way Sirius softened against him helped assure Remus that Sirius was finally starting to calm down.

“I just want you to keep theorizing different ways to get off without me,” he said, and Remus could feel Sirius smirk against his chest. “Wait, rephrase that. _Alone_ without me.”

“You might just have to stand in front of me and watch some days,” Remus replied, his eyebrow still raised in arrogance. A tiny growl erupted from Sirius’ lips.

“I’m not really a ‘ _look but don’t touch’_ kind of person, Moony.” Even as he spoke, his hands mindlessly shifted over Remus’ skin, still exposed from his manic attempt to undress Remus moments before. Whenever he reached the waist of Remus’ joggers, he always hesitated for a few seconds, letting his fingers trail along the border before retreating again.

“And you had the nerve to suggest you might never get there,” Remus said with a smile, eyelids growing heavy at the way Sirius’ fingers traced delicate circles down his spine.


	9. I'm Going to Need You Tonight

**_ Sirius _ **

It was Remus’ first day back at university. After what happened, he’d worked out a way to skip his classes for a whole week, and he had stayed with Sirius every minute of that week. Pete had gone back to their flat to pack a couple bags, and he’d stayed too, for the most part.

Lily and James and Peter had still gone to their classes during the week, so Sirius and Remus were mostly alone in James’ house for the larger portion of each day. Remus spent a lot of time just distracting Sirius from getting too overwhelmed in thought – a lot of films, a lot of music, a lot of talking. But now he was going back to class and Sirius was going to be alone in the Potter’s house for the first time in a long time. Well, _ever_. He was not looking forward to it.

The day after he and Remus made up, the Potters and Peter went to the Black house to retrieve all of Sirius’ things. Of course, Regulus had been there to let them know when their parents were not home so there would be no uncomfortable confrontation.

So, at least his things were here, James would say when Sirius would discuss the terror of Remus’ absence. At least this was not the same room as it was when Carlisle had assaulted him downstairs. No, now it was just some Frankenstein amalgamation of the room he had lived in when Carlisle had first come into his life and the room he had lived in when Carlisle had returned to his life. A win-win, really. Especially now that Remus was not going to be in this room.

It was a horrible thing to say about your boyfriend (Were they still boyfriends? Did they break up and get back together?), that he was a security blanket, but Remus was still the one who kept Carlisle away. That didn’t mean that Sirius didn’t still have the recurring nightmare where Remus was chained to the floor and muzzled in front of him, but at least he was there the moment Sirius woke from those nightmares. He was there to calm Sirius down afterward.

If he was being truthful, whether Remus was there or not, Sirius had been actively trying to avoid sleeping. Over the last week, he’d probably gotten about eight hours in total. Of course, Remus was there when Sirius combatively woke from what little sleep he was getting, and through that, Remus just assumed that Sirius was at least _mostly_ sleeping through the night.

He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to see Carlisle’s face, over and over. He didn’t want to wake to Remus’ arms around his waist and not know that it _wasn’t_ Carlisle. He didn’t want to dream about Remus having to watch him getting molested, or worse, watching it happen to Remus instead. The best thing he could do was just avoid it altogether.

More nights than not, Sirius tried to convince Remus to stay awake with him, but Remus was a lightweight in fighting sleep. The only way Sirius found that was semi-successful in getting Remus to stay awake was to _stimulate_ him, but even then, Remus found creative ways to turn him down without turning him down. At the end of the night, Sirius always found himself wound tenderly in Remus’ arms while Remus fell asleep and Sirius … didn’t.

While Remus didn’t know about Sirius’ lack of sleep, he did know that Sirius was still struggling with nightmares. Before he went back to uni, he’d set up an appointment with his therapist for Sirius. Marlene was supposed to come by and take him.

In the meantime, Sirius curled up on his bed, clutching Remus’ shirt to his chest and trying to breathe in the scent of him, tying to pretend that he wasn’t alone. Trying to remind himself that Carlisle wasn’t going to show up to the Potter’s house while he was unprotected.

At first, the sound of the doorbell sent Sirius into a mindless panic, but Marlene’s shouting voice quickly reminded him that he was surrounded by people who would never let him get hurt again. With a deep breath, he went to the front door, closing his eyes tightly as he passed the bottom of the stairs. He hadn’t forgiven that part of the house yet.

“Sirius! I’m already late, so hurry up!” Marlene shouted from the other side of the door, interrupted by Sirius violently throwing the door open. She flinched, hands raised.

“It’s a fucking castle, Marlene, it takes me a while to get to the door,” he groaned as he pushed past her onto the front steps, locking the door behind him. “Besides, how is it _my_ fault that _you’re_ late?” He yanked his leather jacket onto his shoulders.

“Actually, it’s Dorcas’ fault, but let’s not get into that,” she laughed.

“I don’t want to hear about your vagrant sex life,” Sirius joked.

“I’m sorry, don’t you practically live with your boyfriend?” She glanced at him from the side of her blue eyes, dancing wildly like she was about to hear some sordid gossip.

“Not today, I don’t,” Sirius said with a sigh that echoed through the street. Marlene swatted the sleeve of his jacket as he pulled the pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket.

“Stop being dramatic, he’ll be back this evening,” she said as he passed a cigarette and lighter to Marlene before lighting one up for himself.

“Doesn’t do much for me right now,” he said, taking an overly long drag until his chest could expand no further. “Speaking of which, don’t suppose you have any leftover Valium on you at the moment.” Her blue eyes flashed again, but they were no longer dancing.

“No, Sirius, I don’t,” she said, teeth clenched. Marlene had stopped dealing pretty quickly after Sirius’ overdose. It took her quite a while to stop blaming herself, since it was her stash from which Sirius had stolen the narcotics. Sirius knew she still wasn’t fully over the guilt.

“I’m kidding,” he assured her, reaching over to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m just stressed out, is all,” he said, blowing out the rest of the smoke in his lungs in a cinder cloud.

“Which is why you’re going to a doctor instead of a dealer,” Marlene replied, the snark returning to her voice, assuring Sirius that he hadn’t done any real damage to her feelings.

“Yeah, what am I even supposed to say to this bloke? Shut up and listen to all the reasons I’m super fucked up, then give me some drugs to deal with it?”

Marlene let out a huff. “I’ve never been to therapy, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes.” Sirius had already reached the filter of his cigarette. He tossed it onto the pavement.

“I don’t know if I can talk about it to a stranger, Marlene. I can barely talk about it to Moony and he was _there_ ,” Sirius said, a defensive growl tucked into the caverns of his throat.

“You never know, Sirius,” Marlene said, before taking a drag. “It might be alright.”

_Painting_. An hour of therapy, barely getting into the actual horrible details of what happened, barely mentioning Remus, and the therapist recommended a steady regimen of the antidepressant she prescribed (with a few Valium, just in case) and … painting.

Well, not painting, _specifically_. During the session, Sirius mentioned his dependency on Remus and the struggle of dealing with _himself_ on his own, dealing with his own mind. He hadn’t mentioned the part where he hadn’t slept in a week. Dr. Pomfrey hadn’t asked, after all.

What she had actually recommended was a hobby. Something that he could lose himself in that would take his mind off his past and away from the fact that Remus wasn’t going to be with him at all times. Sirius had come up with the painting on his own.

When he was younger (and still after he had graduated secondary school), it was something he had dabbled in quite a bit. Some people (not his mother) told him he had a talent for it, but when he started university, it fell by the wayside. A lot of things did.

All he did was _mention_ the idea to James and the weirdo came home with bags full of supplies, dragging in a canvas that was taller than he was. Together, they set it up against the fence in the back garden, putting down an over-sized drop-cloth across Mrs. Potter’s lawn.

For a long time, Sirius stood in front of the blank canvas, staring hollow. There was _nothing_ in his mind that he wanted to memorialize in a painting. Well, except Remus, but he had never tried his hand at portraits, and he wasn’t about to start with someone so uncapturable.

At some point – he wasn’t sure when, he didn’t really recall doing it – he asked Mrs. Potter for an old wine glass that she would let Sirius destroy. He filled it to the brim with gold paint and threw it as hard as he could as the canvas. It hit the wooden backing and shattered, sending an explosion of gold all over the canvas, all over the drop-cloth, and all over Sirius.

He did it eight more times with eight more colours. Until he was spackled with paint.

“Padfoot?” Sirius heard from behind him. A smile pushed through the still-wet black paint on his face and he turned to see a rather confused, but still smiling, Remus.

“I took up a hobby,” Sirius stated plainly.

“I see that,” Remus said, the confusion in his expression deepening to worry. “Is everything alright?” An automatic clench went into Sirius’ jaw. He was so tired of that question.

“Of course,” he said, voice blank as he held up a hand. “But stay where you are. There’s glass on the lawn.” Remus’ eyebrows went nearly into his hair.

“Glass?” he repeated, his voice softening and lowering all at once. Sirius recognized it as the placating tone of voice Remus used whenever Sirius woke from a nightmare.

“It’s fine,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “It’s all fine. Everything’s fine.” Ignoring the warning, Remus crossed the yard and stood on the drop-cloth with Sirius.

“Pads,” he said, his voice still soft, still low. He placed a hand onto Sirius’ cheek and Sirius could feel the paint smear on his skin underneath Remus’ touch. “It doesn’t seem fine.”

Sirius grimaced. “Well, it _is_. It’s been fine all fucking day.”

“Okay,” Remus said, pulling his hand back from Sirius’ skin and holding it in the air like some sort of surrender. The grimace on Sirius’ face increased to a scowl.

“You always do that, you know,” he said with a hiss. “You always stop touching me, like – like you know what I want. Like you think you know what’s best for me.” With a short breath, Remus lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Pads, I just don’t –”

“You just don’t want to break me, Moony, but I’m already broken. I’m already _really_ fucking broken.” The speed of his words increased, he could feel himself losing control of what he was saying. He didn’t want to say any of this to Remus – he had been waiting for Remus to come home all day. He was supposed to slather him with paint and kisses.

“I’m trying to help you not _feel_ so broken,” Remus said, a sadness in his voice that was not supposed to be there. This wasn’t supposed to go this way.

“I’m _always_ going to feel broken!” Sirius shouted, digging his hands into his hair. He could feel the paint on his fingers dripping onto his scalp, knotting up his hair. He could feel the anxious bile that had been churning in his stomach all day start to rise.

“Tell me what to do, Pads,” Remus begged, doing that thing where he locked his hands behind his head, so he didn’t reach out to touch Sirius by mistake. “Tell me what I can do.”

“There’s _nothing_ you can do, Remus!” Sirius’ voice rose to a peak, just as he registered that he had been yelling at the person trying to help him. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to,” Remus said, gritting his teeth. “I want to do _something_.”

“But you already know what I _want_ you to do,” Sirius sighed, taking a large step inward. Their sudden closeness sent a nervous swallow into Remus’ throat, Sirius watched his Adam’s apple bob the entire length of Remus’ neck with a sudden desire to wrap his teeth around it.

“I don’t think I do,” he replied, his eyes scattering over the colours decorating Sirius’ face.

“You’re a fucking liar, Remus Lupin,” Sirius said with an angry huff. “Because I see it all over your face when you look at me, I feel it in the way you pull away when I kiss you.”

Remus let out a groan, his head falling back, and Sirius’ desire to put his teeth on Remus’ skin grew exponentially. “I’m trying to be _good_ , Sirius,” he said, dragging his hands down his face, down his neck. “And I am _going_ to push it too far because I … I can’t _control_ myself with you.”

“Are you kidding?” Sirius asked, a high-pitched squeak slipping into his voice. “I’ve been trying to turn you on all week, so you’ll stay awake with me, and your self-control is _beyond_ –”

Remus interrupted. “Wait, so I’ll stay _awake_ with you?” _Fuck_. **_Shit_**.

“I just mean, until I can –” Interrupted, again.

“You told me you weren’t still doing this.” Remus’ voice was cold, panicked.

“Can you blame me?” Sirius half-shouted. “Every fucking time I close my eyes, all I see is what would’ve happened if Carlisle had gotten his hands on _you_ instead of me.”

Remus turned, pushing his hands through his hair. “This is my fault. You should’ve been going to therapy all week. I’m not enough to –” This time, Sirius interrupted.

“Oh, don’t fucking do that,” he growled. “You aren’t responsible for me, Remus!”

“I want to be!” Remus said, turning and bearing down into Sirius’ face. “This is all on _me_ , Sirius. This whole fucking thing. I should’ve never left that room. I should’ve never left _you_.”

Instantly, Sirius softened under a long sigh. “You couldn’t have known.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Remus yelled at the top of his lungs, bending down to pick up a paint-filled glass from the drop-cloth and hurl it violently at the canvas. It shattered in shades of blue, recoiled splatters returning to rest on Remus’ jumper, on his face, in his hair.

“Not a single part of this was your fault,” Sirius assured him, mirroring the tone of voice that Remus used to calm Sirius down after a waking nightmare.

“It _is_ ,” Remus said, turning back, tears threatening to spill over. “I should’ve stayed in that bedroom and made love to you, and instead I let you get _hurt_.” His lip trembled as the tears washed over his cheeks, leaving blue streaks in the paint splotches across Remus’ face.

“You didn’t choose this.” Sirius held Remus’ face in his hands. “And you’re acting like I’m not here, like you won’t have another chance. You can _still_ make love to me.” Before Sirius could say more, Remus breathed out heavy, moving his lips onto Sirius’ and kissing him madly.

“I’m so terrified of doing the wrong thing,” Remus confessed inside the kiss, breathing warm into Sirius’ mouth. “I keep pushing you away because I’m afraid of what I’ll do.”

“You’re not the one I’m worried about anymore, Moony,” Sirius sighed, tasting a drop of thick paint at the corner of Remus’ mouth, but not caring enough to stop kissing him. “Let’s just do it, get the first time out of the way so we can stop being so scared of each other.”

“ _No_ ,” Remus said, his voice dropping down into a whine. “No, I don’t want to get it out of the way. I want to _savor_ it.” Remus kissed a line down Sirius’ jaw to his ear. For the first time in a long time, Sirius heard that dangerous cadence in Remus’ voice that he hadn’t heard since the night of the party. “I don’t want to hold back. I want you to see just how terribly I want you.”

Sirius shuddered. “My bedroom is empty right now, Moons.” Remus’ voice turned back up to his normal speaking tone, and Sirius let out a sigh at the missing depth and vitriol in it.

“We’ve just had a fight, Pads.” His laugh was light, but his hands still trembled on Sirius’ skin from keeping them to those certain, restricted areas that Remus never let them stray from.

“Rough make-up sex, then,” Sirius crooned into Remus’ ear. This time, _Remus_ shuddered.

“I didn’t think you’d like it rough.” That indecorous growl returned for just a moment and Sirius spent several long seconds trying to decipher the phrasing of that reply.

“Does that mean you like _being_ rough?” he asked curiously, but Remus’ response was cut short by James yelling at them from the back door.

“Lads, get your arses inside!” he yelled. “Mum says she wants to make Sirius something special for dinner and I can’t very fucking well choose for you, can I?” Remus let out a low growl into Sirius’ ear – out of frustration or arousal, Sirius couldn’t tell, but the effect was the same.

“I think you should get cleaned up first,” Remus suggested, leaning back to survey the paint splattered across Sirius’ face and buried deep in Sirius’ hair. He took a moment to swipe a rogue splotch of black paint away from the corner of Sirius’ eye.

“Maybe you could help me with that.” Remus’ eyebrow rose high.

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

“Are you a-thousand-percent sure about this?” Remus asked, for the same number of times, as steam filled the room, fogged the mirrors, blurred Sirius’ expression a little.

“Eight-thousand-percent, Moons,” Sirius replied again, the number on his percentage increasing with every reply. Oh, God, this could be a very, _very_ bad idea.

“What if I –” he stopped to take a very sharp breath inward as Sirius quickly shed his shirt, tossing it onto the floor in front of Remus’ feet. The breath in his chest swelled as he looked at Sirius’ bare chest for the first time, through a veil of fog. “ _Pads_ ,” he breathed out.

“Close your eyes, Remus,” Sirius said, his voice dropping down an octave lower than Remus thought it should be. He obeyed instantly, and he kept them closed despite the sounds of the remainder of Sirius’ clothes dropping to the ceramic tile. He also kept them closed when Sirius took one of Remus’ hands into his own and guided it across his chest, down his waist, over his hipbone and down to his thigh without encountering a single thread of fabric.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Remus whined playfully, but he still didn’t open his eyes. He even kept them closed when he heard the soft splashing of water, the sound of Sirius settling naked into a hot bath. Oh, this was a very bad idea, indeed.

“You can open your eyes now,” Sirius instructed him.

Again, Remus did as he was told, greeted by a smiling Sirius, still covered in paint, his nudity partially concealed by a mountain of bubbles. “This is not what I was expecting,” he said.

“Did you want to join me?” Sirius asked with a fire behind his eyes and a secret behind his lips. “You’re welcome to strip right now, as long as I’m allowed to watch.”

Remus pouted, kneeling next to the tub. “That’s not fair, _I_ wasn’t allowed to watch.”

“You didn’t ask,” Sirius said with a mischievous smirk.

“Can I watch you get out?” Remus cocked his head to one side.

“No.”

“You set me up for that one, you cocky, little shit,” Remus laughed as he dipped his hand into the soapy water, splashing Sirius with a handful of it.

“Maybe that means tonight you’ll have enough motivation to stay awake with me,” Sirius grinned as he reached up to grab a bottle of shampoo, giving Remus the _fullest_ glimpse he’d ever gotten of Sirius’ skin. But it wasn’t quite enough to distract him from what Sirius was saying.

“You can’t stay awake for the rest of your life,” Remus said with a heavy sigh, but Sirius side-stepped that point as he took Remus’ hand and squeezed a gratuitous amount of shampoo into it. He curved backward far enough to dip his hair into the bathwater and Remus took that opportunity to shamelessly ogle the sharp curves of Sirius’ throat.

“Just shut up and wash my hair, Moony.” He sat up, his long, dark hair weighing his head backward. Quickly, Remus slicked his hands together before heedlessly buried them into Sirius’ hair, working them against Sirius’ scalp until they formed a lather. And Sirius _moaned_.

“Could you keep the sounds of ecstasy to a minimum, please?” Remus laughed, secretly unsure if he wanted the noises to stop or if he wanted them to continue, but _louder_.

“I’m sorry, am I making it _hard_ … to concentrate?” Sirius grinned with all his teeth.

“You’re making it hard for me to behave,” Remus said, trying to keep the innuendo out of his voice. In truth, he’d been a little _warm_ since he kissed Sirius in the garden, and it certainly wasn’t getting any easier. Not with Sirius, naked and wet, within reach.

“Why do you feel like you need to behave in the first place?” Sirius asked, as Remus pushed through Sirius’ hair, leaving finger trails in the suds. Sirius craned his neck back into Remus’ hand. “And don’t say it’s for me, because I’m literally _begging_ you for it, Moony.”

“Because I’ll just become another name on the long list of people who have taken advantage of you.” With Sirius’ head cradled in his hand, Remus pushed gently onto Sirius’ chest to ease him back into the water, rinsing the suds from his hair. He paused speaking while Sirius’ ears were underwater, smiling at the way Sirius rested the full weight of his head in Remus’ hands, at the way Sirius let his eyes flutter closed at Remus’ fingers threading through his hair.

As he pulled Sirius from the water, he continued, “If you ever felt like that about me, I could never live with myself.” With a roll of his eyes, Sirius dragged his wet hair over one shoulder, ringing out the excess water. And Remus let himself get lost in observing.

“At what point does it become needless self-sacrifice?” Sirius countered, while Remus soaped a rag. “You say it’s still too soon, but look at us, Remus.” Remus deliberately tried _not_ to look. The bubbles keeping Sirius decent were starting to dissipate. “All I’d have to do is stand up and my naked cock would be in your face. I could take you by the mouth and slip right betw–”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” The sound from Remus’ throat wasn’t intended to be a whimper, but it certainly came out that way. He focused on dragging the soapy rag across Sirius’ chest, though there wasn’t a single fleck of paint to be found on it. Slowly, Sirius reached up and took the rag from his hand, pressing Remus’ fingers to his bare chest.

“I know you’re afraid of me, Remus,” Sirius whispered softly, shifting his wrist just slightly to move Remus’ hand down. “But you could never hurt me.” The breath in Remus’ lungs was surging feverishly, and Sirius moved his hand further. His ribs, his belly button. Remus felt his fingers slip underneath the water, underneath the bubbles, still against Sirius’ skin.

When Remus quickly pulled away, standing with a deep, shuddering breath, he watched Sirius let his head fall forward in defeat. This wasn’t the right time, was it? It had only been a week since Carlisle, a week since the overdose, a week since Sirius tried to _kill himself_. This was too soon. If Remus acted now, was he any better than anyone else in Sirius’ life?

“No, you … you make a lot of bold claims,” Remus said, pushing through his hair, leaving wet trails behind. “But I think you would panic if I actually stripped down and climbed into that bath with you.” The fire in Sirius’ eyes relit into a smelting silver pool. 

“Only one way to find out,” he hummed, watching Remus carefully. It was reminiscent of permission, but Remus needed to be sure. He pressed again.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked, chest heaving with weighted breaths. On a swallow, Sirius nodded, and the wave of water against him mimicked the motion.

“Yes. _Please_ ,” Sirius said with emphasis. Before he could overthink it any longer, Remus pulled the jumper over his head, starting on the buttons of the shirt underneath. When he looked back up, Sirius’ eyes were darting between the motion of his fingers and the undoubtedly wild expression that Remus could feel his face making on its own.

“I won’t make you close your eyes,” Remus said, swallowing hard before a short breath pushed from his lips. Sirius’ silver eyes swirled, his lips parted as breath moved quickly in and out of his lungs. Remus let the shirt slip from his shoulders. “Last chance to back out.”

“ _Remus_ ,” Sirius said, his voice dry while everything else was wet. “Don’t stop.”

Oh, fuck.

The speed of Remus’ fingers increased as he witnessed, in real time, the frenzied need in Sirius’ expression. His trousers dropped to the floor, the button clinking loudly against the tile in the silence between them. Remus took a few steps closer, tucking his fingers into the waist of his pants, tugging them just gently enough to give Sirius a glimpse of skin typically covered.

“If you want me naked, then make it so,” he said hoarsely, a voice ruined by breath. With no hesitation, Sirius reached up, sliding one wet hand down Remus’ abdomen. Through short, rapid breaths, Sirius let his wide eyes and trembling hands wander. Eventually, with his eyes locked onto Remus’ gaze, he widened the elastic of Remus’ last remaining article of clothing. 

“Oi, Padfoot!” Peter suddenly called from the other side of the door. Sirius bit down on his bottom lip so hard that when he released it, there was a dark red line where his teeth had been. His fingers remained tucked into Remus’ pants, his unwavering gaze still focused.

“Yes?” he called, a hint of irritation in his tone that led Remus to smile.

“Where did Moony run off to?” The delicate smile reappeared on Sirius’ face, his cheeks just the tiniest bit flushed as his grip loosened a bit. As Remus tried to step away, Sirius tugged hard on the fabric, letting the elastic snap loudly against Remus’ bare skin. A whimper escaped Remus’ throat before he could seal his lips. Sirius let his eyebrow rise, a curl at his lip.

“Have you checked your bedroom?” Sirius called back, narrowing his eyes in Remus’ direction as he let a single finger travel up Remus’ thigh, along the scar. Warily, Remus shook his head. There wasn’t enough time to do all the things he wanted. Not with Pete on the hunt.

“Of course I checked!” Peter stated indignantly. The trail of Sirius’ fingertip moved up to Remus’ chest. There was devotion in Sirius’ eyes as his touch trended down again.

“And _my_ bedroom?” Sirius asked, eyes flicking down to follow the movement of his finger as it crossed the elastic border, finding fabric, and the erect skin underneath it.

“Yes!” Peter said, getting exasperated. Remus swallowed, knowing the feeling. Sirius’ finger was circling now, around a very indecent, ever narrowing perimeter.

“Try the roof.” Sirius’ voice grew quiet and rough as he shifted, kneeling crossways in the bath so that he could wrap both wet hands around Remus’ waist. The edge of the porcelain barely kept Sirius concealed, allowing Remus a scandalizing glance at his bare, gaunt hip bones and the soft path of jet-black hair trailing down his stomach. The sight of so much of Sirius’ naked skin was accompanied by a surreal sort of clarity that left Remus fucking _euphoric_.

“At James’ balcony?” Peter clarified, but Sirius was barely listening, focused on pulling Remus close, immediately burying his lips into the soft skin underneath Remus’ navel.

“Yes,” he breathed out against Remus’ skin and Remus shuddered underneath it. He was so focused on Sirius’ mouth that when Sirius’ hand slipped up his thigh, and his fingers brushed delicately along Remus’ length, Remus let out a short, but _very_ audible, moan.

Sirius didn’t even pause, wasn’t even concerned with whether Pete was still listening on the other side of the door, and Remus was so high on this revisited _closeness_ , he hardly had the presence to remember Pete was even there in the first place.

Much to Sirius’ surprise, Remus dropped to his knees. With the added height of the bath, Remus’ mouth was perfectly aligned to Sirius’ throat, and he took full advantage. Typically, his kisses were careful and timid – he never wanted to seem too passionate, too wanting, too aggressive. But his restraint could only go so far, and Sirius had stretched it out _so_ thin.

It was more biting than kissing, his hand curling around the other side of Sirius’ throat, tightening just so. The unevenness of Sirius’ breathing evolved into ragged gasps as he leaned his head back as far as it would go to let Remus’ teeth sink into any skin he wanted.

In a hungry voice, Remus spoke. “Do you still want me to touch you?” A desperate whine bubbled up from Sirius’ throat as he pulled Remus’ mouth to his own, kissing him with a fury that Remus had never known. He shifted his legs underneath the soapy water, taking Remus’ hand.

“Yes, yes, _yes_.” He staggered the breathless words between violent kisses, insistently pressing Remus’ hand against his wet skin, low on his stomach. And Remus pushed forward, the warmth of the water enveloping his hand as the soft hair on Sirius’ abdomen grew thicker.

He went a little absent when his fingers brushed lightly against the tight skin, warmer than the water around it. The kisses went unreturned, Remus’ mouth vacant and open as he followed the length of Sirius underneath the water until he reached the head. A new, unfocused heat dropped into his gut as he swirled the pad of his thumb over the tip of Sirius’ naked cock.

“ _Jesus_ , Remus,” Sirius called out, his voice an empty whisper. Just as Remus curled a loose fist around Sirius, just as he started to unsettle him, with an ecstatic, heavy breath falling from Sirius’ open mouth, a careful knock sent Sirius’ jaw snapping shut, teeth clenched tight.

“For fuck’s sake, Pete, give me a goddamn minute,” Sirius barked, and Remus pulled his teeth into his lips to keep from laughing. When he shifted his wrist, Sirius whimpered. Just a bit. 

“Pads, it’s me, I …” James’ voice called out from the other side of the door, but he faltered. At the apparent strain in James’ tone, Remus and Sirius glanced at each other with matched expressions. Remus’ grip slipped from Sirius’ skin. “Your … your parents are here.”

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

All the heat that had gathered under the surface of Sirius’ skin as it had been underneath Remus’ fingers suddenly evaporated in his blood, leaving him dizzy and unsteady. The flush in his cheeks from the frenzy of Remus’ touch slipped away, his colour plummeting into a stark pale.

The pressure of Remus’ fingers between his legs vanished, too, and Sirius silently mourned the loss of another night of progress. Instead, Remus’ touch spread up to his face, apparently as he had been calling Sirius’ name for several moments with no response.

“ _Pads_. Talk to me. Please,” he begged, worry clouding his eyes, like a splash of spoiled milk bleeding into a glass of whiskey. It was rather unsettling.

“I can’t do this right now, Moony,” Sirius spoke under his breath. If Remus hadn’t been so close, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. “I can’t see them right now. I can’t see _her_.” The clenching of Remus’ teeth was nearly audible from what little distance was between them.

“You don’t have to. This is the Potter’s house. Say the word and Euphie won’t dare let them inside,” Remus said of James’ mother and Sirius _almost_ smiled at the use of her nickname, one that Mr. Potter used so frequently that it had seeped into all their vocabularies.

“Why are they even here?” Sirius questioned, letting his eyes close for a moment, as if in an effort to get his bearings. It was rather nauseating being thrown back into the filth of the real world after having spent the last several moments in encapsulated bliss with Remus Lupin.

“Does it even matter?” Remus huffed as he grabbed a nearby towel, pressing it firmly into Sirius’ hand, as if he wasn’t sure Sirius was totally present and coherent. “Reg said it best, she’s a hateful, sodding witch and she’s better off rotting in hell.”

Sirius smiled, just a smidge. “I don’t think Reg said _all_ that.”

“I’m just saying what he couldn’t,” Remus mumbled as Sirius squeezed the excess water from his hair. For only a moment, the light in his whiskey eyes returned as he asked, “Do you want me to step out for a minute so you can dress?” His eyebrow twitched upward.

“You can stay,” Sirius agreed with an arrogant smirk. “But you have to close your eyes again.” With a playful groan, Remus stood, dramatically throwing his hand over his eyes.

“I’ve practically seen you already, Pads. My hands know all there is to know.”

“And yet you still want a peek, so –” Remus interrupted with a soft growl.

“Make it quick, then. I don’t know how much discipline I have left in me.” Much slower than Remus asked, Sirius stood from the water, taking his time to get fully and completely dry while Remus complained in the background. “I still have to get dressed as well, you know.”

“Do you?” Sirius taunted, wrapping the towel loosely around his waist before letting his hands slide around Remus’ still-bare waist. Through clenched teeth, Remus sucked in a breath.

“You will be the death of me, Sirius, I swear it,” he laughed, rather pathetically, his fingers pressing indentations into his temple from where he struggled so hard to keep them in place. As response, Sirius placed a tender kiss against Remus’ collarbone, pressing their hips close.

“I’m going to need you tonight, Moony,” Sirius sighed into his kiss and Remus instantly brought his arm up to wrap around Sirius’ shoulders. The hand over his eyes snaked to the side, slipping around to the back of Sirius’ neck, through the wet tangles of Sirius’ dark hair.

“You’re going to see them?” he clarified, peeking one eye open. Sirius nodded.

“Just to tell them to fuck off,” Sirius replied with a shrewd grin, hiding the anxious buzz he kept trying to swallow. Remus, of course, wasn’t fooled.

“I won’t leave your side,” he assured Sirius, resting their foreheads together. For a moment, Sirius allowed himself to close his eyes, breathing Remus in, in some effort to calm the panic in his heart. And there was truly no better remedy. “Do you need a moment more?”

Sirius didn’t pause. “I need _you_ for a moment more.” With a striking change in pace, Sirius leapt up to claim Remus’ mouth in a rather fitful kiss, one that Remus was evidently not prepared to receive. He stumbled backward, landing hard against the bathroom door with a soft but heavy grunt, with Sirius landing hard against him. Enough to feel him through the fabric.

“ _Oh_ ,” Remus breathed out under a smile that lasted only half a second before Sirius’ mouth found his again, his tongue delving as deeply as it had ever gone. Remus’ mouth went slack, letting Sirius in, giving Sirius the control he felt he needed. It didn’t stop Remus’ hands from acting on their own, sliding down to the towel now slipping from Sirius’ waist.

At first, he held it in place, fingers twitching, and Sirius knew the monologue happening in the background of Remus’ head. _This is too soon_ and _He didn’t specifically say he wanted me to get him naked_ or _There’s not a color for this, what the fuck do I do??_ So, Sirius made the decision for him. A decision he’d been trying to make for the last full week.

He pushed the edge of the towel off to the side. Remus still held it to Sirius’ hips, his grip growing a little tighter, a little more nervous. Neither of them broke out of the kiss – if anything, it evolved into something a bit more desperate, a bit more wanting. When Remus got _this_ worked up, he tended to go a little blank. To forget boundaries and pasts and trauma.

When Remus got like this, all he could focus on was that _hunger_.

Sirius knew that. Sirius _wanted_ that. He wanted to let Remus take control and to _lose_ control, to lose that calculating part of himself that never let him act without considering every minuscule consequence of every insignificant action. Past a certain point, Remus went feral.

And Sirius fucking _loved_ it.

He knew he _shouldn’t_. After everything he had been through, after all the time he spent being controlled by another person, he shouldn’t have wanted it. Especially not from Remus. But that was the point – it was _Remus_. Remus, who spent every moment with Sirius quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) wondering if he was being too forward. Remus, who pulled his hands away any time Sirius even seemed uncomfortable (even when Sirius most certainly was _not_ ).

It was because Remus was usually so docile and so caring and so fucking _perfect_ that Sirius enjoyed seeing him a little undomesticated, a little frantic, a little demanding. This was the most debauched that Sirius had ever seen him. And it was a fucking masterpiece.

His whole body was flushed – his cheeks, his throat, his lips. If his lips were separated from Sirius’, while Sirius was sucking the blood to the surface of the skin at the base of Remus’ neck, he bit down so hard, the skin underneath his stubble went white. The hair usually slipping lazily down into his eyes was pushed violently back with wet hands, resulting in curls winding wildly around each other, around his ears, down the back of his neck. His touch against Sirius’ skin was dynamic, ever-changing, but steady and authoritative. His kiss – God, his _kiss_ – it was inflammatory and seditious, like a challenge to the fucking universe, like he dared someone, _anyone_ to come and take Sirius from him. That level of certainty became intoxicating.

As soon as Sirius wrapped one leg around Remus’ hip, pressing himself hard to Remus, separated only by the threads of fabric keeping Remus covered, Remus’ ferocity increased. A low, unsatisfied growl curled up from the hollows of Remus’ throat, barreling through Sirius’ teeth in a scathing flash of warmth and word, with Sirius’ name on his tongue.

“Oh my fucking _God, Pads_ ,” he spoke in a soft howl, letting his head fall back against the door while his hips pressed further forward. His fingers began to lose their grip on Sirius’ towel, and for a moment, he began to correct, to readjust. Sirius readied himself for the anti-climax, for Remus to sharply come down as he realized how far he was taking this.

That was not what happened. Instead, Remus viciously snapped the towel from around Sirius’ hips and slipped his hands down Sirius’ bare arse, down the back of his thighs. His grip tightened against Sirius’ skin as he used the pressure of his hips against Sirius’ to lift him, wrapping Sirius’ legs around him. He spun, shunting Sirius hard against the door.

“ _Remus_ ,” Sirius whispered, voice trembling as the breath was forced from his lungs.

“You tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” Remus growled breathlessly into his ear, driving Sirius’ hips further into the door with his own. With every upward rock of Remus’ hips, Sirius could feel the full length of Remus’ cock sliding roughly along his own, only a layer of fabric in the way.

“Don’t fucking stop, please, _God_ ,” Sirius panted as Remus settled his teeth heavily at the curve of Sirius’ neck, biting his way up Sirius’ throat until all the breath inside was reduced to a wheeze. “Harder, Moony. Bite me _harder_ ,” he begged, tugging insistently at Remus’ hair.

“Any harder and I’ll break your skin, Sirius,” Remus reasoned, his voice a touch softer than it had been a moment before, but the pressure of his hips getting heavier.

“Then fucking break it,” Sirius demanded, and a vacant whimper fell from Remus’ lips, but his biting shifted into wet, open kisses to prevent exactly that from happening. To shift Sirius’ attention, Remus balanced Sirius low on his thighs and let his eyes drag down Sirius’ torso, covering every inch of yet unseen skin. His golden eyes, darkened by hooded lids and pupils blown wide with avarice, stalled quite exclusively at the center of Sirius’ hips.

“Oh, _God_ ,” he drawled out in a moan, his tongue slipping slowly from behind his teeth, curling back in and taking his bottom lip with it. Even after everything, Sirius still blushed.

When Remus’ attention remained undivided, Sirius squirmed. “Fuck, Moony, I’m not –”

But Remus interrupted. “Please, Pads,” he begged for a yet unknown request. “ _Please_. I need you. I have never wanted anyone as awfully as I want you.” He looked up at Sirius through dark lashes, through dark eyes, and Sirius felt every part of his body soften (save one) at the absolutely wrecked expression in Remus’ face. Frenzied and trembling and on fucking fire.

“Tell me what you want, Remus, you can have it,” Sirius surrendered wholly. Before answering, Remus attacked Sirius’ mouth with another more fitful, more unrestrained kiss.

“I want …” Remus breathed out into Sirius’ mouth, “I want you in –” Interrupted by another, more insistent knock on the door, Remus shut his eyes tightly, hanging his head.

“ _Padfoot_ ,” James called, the strain increased in his voice. “At least assure me you’re not trying to drown yourself in the bath.” The smile on Sirius’ face mirrored in Remus’ eyes.

“I’m alright, Prongs,” he said over a sigh that sounded a little more irritated than he wanted to relay to James. “I’m alright.” His eyes remained on Remus’ as Remus returned his feet to the floor, settling a delicate kiss onto his battered lips. It practically stung.

“Another time,” Remus promised. With a sly grin, he returned his hand to his eyes and took a step back, to let Sirius continue to get dressed.

“Nothing left to hide now, Moons,” Sirius laughed as he pulled on his black trousers, still splattered with paint. The smile remained on Remus’ face, his hand remained over his eyes.

“This is for my own sanity, at this point.” Without uncovering his eyes, Remus adjusted his hips, a noticeable swelling still prominent at the center. “I won’t come down if I watch.”

“Then you _should_ watch,” Sirius stated, rather suggestively as he pulled the shirt on over his head, wetting the collar round the back as he pulled his hair through.

“I’d rather not make your mother ha–” he stopped quite abruptly, an expression that Sirius had grown quite fond of spread over his face. His mouth curled up in one corner, slowly and deviously, with the matching eyebrow rising in the very same manner.

“What are you plotting?” Sirius wondered, forcibly plucking Remus’ fingers from over his eyes so he could see that expected dark fire alight inside them. While he was prepared to see it, it didn’t stop the burn that spread through Sirius’ chest and the shiver that followed.

Remus dropped his voice low. “I’m going to make your mother _hate_ me.” 

“I hate to tell you, but she already does,” Sirius laughed softly, letting Remus take him into his arms, which Remus did without the slightest hesitation. Sirius reveled in it.

“She only hates me by proximity,” Remus said with a shrug, planting an innocent, absent kiss to Sirius’ lips and Sirius was awestruck by how ordinarily he did it. “I’m going to make her hate me herself. First-hand.” With a curious expression, Sirius pulled away to tie his wet, unruly hair onto the top of his head. As he did, Remus’ hands remained around his waist.

“I doubt you can make someone hate you on purpose,” he said with doubt in his voice as Remus pulled him in close again. “You’re a very loveable person, Moony.”

Another kiss, just as commonplace as the first, and Sirius went dizzy with how wonderful it felt to have things like kisses be so common. “I’m making a lot of exceptions for your mother.”

“And what’s your great design, then? I can give you some suggestions. She’s very proud of her wardrobe. Insult her shoes. No, her coat. Wait! Her jewels!” Sirius cackled, throwing his head back in laughter. Remus looked on, the adoration evident in his expression.

“Shall I toss her out the front door as well?” he grinned.

“You can spit in her face for all I bloody care,” Sirius scoffed with an arrogant twist of his lips, which Remus apparently found delicious, because he planted an explicit kiss against them.

“I’m rather riled up right now, Sirius. There are a lot of things I’d like to do.” He hummed into Sirius’ open mouth so deeply that Sirius could taste the stale chai on his tongue.

“To me or to my mother?” Sirius said, trying not to laugh. With a disgusted expression, and an overly dramatic fake retch to match, Remus pulled away.

“Mood sufficiently ruined. Thank you for that,” Remus said, playfully turning the corners of his mouth down in a show of feign disapproval. As Sirius placed his hand on the bathroom doorknob, Remus scurried to dress before he could open the door. He didn’t quite make it.

The look on James’ face was, at first, concern. The moment he saw Remus, his trousers still entirely unbuttoned and his shirt only half over his head, James’ expression turned immediately shrewd and insinuating. With a raised brow, his gaze shot back to Sirius.

“Here I am, worried to death about you and you’re having an illicit tryst with Moony in the bath,” he said, his tongue pressed behind his teeth to try to hide a smile. “Honestly.”

In typical fashion, Sirius spoke, literal tongue in cheek, “I had to loosen him up before he met my parents.” In the background, Remus pulled on his shirt with a rather deep sigh, and Sirius could only interpret what that sigh meant. Though, he was quite sure he already knew.

“Well?” James pressed, leaning in. “Did it work? Are you loosened up, Moony?”

The sigh prolonged as Remus moved past them, careful not to touch Sirius (or James, for that matter) on his way out, muttering, “Not one fucking bit.” Sirius bit down his laughter.

Together, the trio made their way downstairs to find Sirius’ parents waiting in the sitting area that overlooked the back garden. A cringe worked its way into the curve of Sirius’ lip as he set his eyes on the odious face of his mother, sitting on _Remus’_ white couch. From either side, James and Remus both reached out and squeezed each of Sirius’ shoulders.

His mother stood as they entered the room. “It’s about time, we’ve been waiting for nearly half an hour,” she spat, per her custom, in Sirius’ direction. The wince was automatic.

“Remus, this is my mother, Walburga, and my father, Orion,” Sirius said dutifully.

“Forgive us,” Remus said quickly, and unusually politely. Sirius looked back at him in shock. “It took a considerable effort to coax Sirius out of my bath.” At first, Sirius’ eyes widened in surprise – Remus wasn’t usually this forthcoming with _anyone_ , much less strangers, much less Sirius’ bigoted parents. As he watched Remus’ expression grow more and more delighted, he recalled what Remus had said just moments before. _I’m going to make your mother hate me._

Sirius’ smile spread like a virus. “Only because you wouldn’t get out first.” 

The sheer elation on Remus’ face was fucking magical.

“So,” Sirius’ mother said with disgust and disdain as she snarled her lips, her mouth like an angry wound at the end of a pale, rotting face. “This is the … _friend_.”

Remus was quick to correct, slipping his arms around Sirius’ waist and snuggling up behind him. “Boyfriend, if you don’t mind.” If there was any feeling better than being cuddled by the one you love to spite your parents, Sirius could not have imagined it just then.

“Considering how you’re corrupting and defiling my son, I _do_ mind,” she hissed back with her venomous tongue, but Remus, as ever, was quick with the retort.

“That’s unfortunate for you because, as it turns out,” Remus paused to place his lips against Sirius’ neck. “I don’t actually give a shit.” An inescapable and quite audible laugh bubbled up from Sirius’ lips before he could stifle it, and it echoed out from Remus’ throat. Even James, who had so far been silent, let out a laugh so loud that it called back from the rafters.

“Stay for dinner, won’t you, Mummy?” Sirius offered with an arrogant smirk, knowing she would _never_ subject herself to blatant homosexuality, especially coming from her own spawn.

Her hateful eyes narrowed in challenge. “I believe we will.” Sirius felt the color drain from his face, but Remus flexed his fingertips against Sirius’ stomach, a silent, bolstering promise.

“How wonderful,” Remus breathed out through his teeth as Walburga returned to the sofa, crossing her legs with a smile, as if in victory. Sirius’ father, Orion, remained as silent and stoic as ever, not even uttering a greeting to the son he hadn’t seen in nearly a year.

As the three of them filed into the kitchen, Sirius threw himself across the counter, letting out a loud groan. “God, why am I such a fucking idiot? Now they’re _staying_?”

James reached over and patted Sirius on the back, but it felt like he was consoling his defeat. On the other hand, Remus’ smile had returned in fold. Ten-fold, even. He was _giddy_.

“You have no imagination, love,” he assured Sirius, stooping over to where Sirius had draped himself across the countertop, in order to hold Sirius by the face. “We are going to give them _such_ a show.” His grin was nearly sinister. “They will never want to come back.”

James cackled. “Oh, this is about to get _so_ gay. And I’m fucking _here_ for it.”

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

It was one thing to talk up how much he despised Sirius’ mother, and truly, he despised her. If she had done _one_ thing, shown Sirius _one_ iota of compassion, he might not have been quite as bad off as he was. It was her fault that Sirius had such a difficult time trusting people, her fault that Sirius was as emotionally stunted as he was. It was her fault that Sirius had been forced to develop an entire color scheme to signal when it was alright for Remus to touch him. 

Then again, he _had_ just let Remus fondle him in the bath. So, progress there.

Either way, it was quite easy for Remus to _say_ how much he loathed this woman, but it would be another thing altogether to actually _show_ her. He often wondered if he could do it, if he could face the woman who played such an enormous role in Sirius’ total collapse.

When he saw her, sitting on the same white couch where Sirius had knelt in front of him for the first time, his back stiffened dramatically. So much so, in fact, that it sent a sickening wave of disgust into his stomach. He thought he would lose it over her crushed-velvet heels.

Her face was thin, ghastly thin, hauntingly reminiscent of Sirius’ face, of Regulus’ face, but without any sign that a smile had ever crossed over it. There were very few lines on her face, truthfully, but it was artificial youth, silicone pumped too full under her pale, aging cheeks.

Sirius had been right about her eyes. They were exactly the same color as Sirius’, but there was nothing within them. Nothing like the animated luster that swirled in Sirius’ gaze, not even the occasional emotional tick that frequented Regulus’ stare. They were hollow and cold.

Her wardrobe was just as Sirius had described – not one thread more than a year old and likely none ever worn in repeat. Gaudy diamonds hung from over-stretched earlobes, a sapphire clung to her neck, an oversized emerald adorned her ring finger. Her fingernails were all sharpened to a point, polished to match the ring that Remus _knew_ she had struck Sirius with.

Sirius’ father, who looked a great deal like Sirius and Regulus, but with eyes so black that Remus couldn’t tell where his gaze was directed, sat solemn and still. It seemed he was looking off into the distance, entranced and unfocused, but it could’ve been the darkness of his eyes.

As soon as they entered the room, his mother stood, tapping the toe of her expensive shoes silently into the carpet. “About time. We have been waiting for half an hour.”

_Oh_ , _yes_. Remus thought to himself. _It’ll be easy to make her hate me. Fun, even_.

“Remus, this is my mother, Walburga and my father, Orion,” Sirius sighed.

“Forgive us,” Remus said immediately, and the betrayal on Sirius’ face would’ve been visible from across the room. “It took a considerable effort to coax Sirius from my bath.”

As Sirius’ eyes widened in surprise, it distracted Remus from the task at hand. That vibrant silver Remus usually found in them was dulled to cinder ash, and Remus had to ignore the physical pain it caused in his chest at the staggering difference between them.

With a quick retrace, Remus returned the mischief to his face, to remind Sirius of his plan to make this woman hate him. And Sirius caught on quick, evidenced by his devious grin.

“Only because you wouldn’t get out first,” Sirius toyed back, letting his fingers flirt with Remus’ own. If only his back hadn’t been turned, because he would’ve _loved_ seeing that look of shock and horror on his mother’s face. No doubt Sirius would make him describe it in detail.

“So,” the woman said, her mouth turning down in disgust, with her voice drifting out in a drawl that matched. “This is the …” she paused with a charge before spitting out, “… friend.”

“ _Boyfriend_ , if you don’t mind,” Remus corrected her quickly, sliding his hand around Sirius’ waist, rather low and deliberate, leaning in to let her get a good look at his profoundly shit-eating grin. As if homosexuality were a contagion, she leaned away quickly.

“Considering how you’re corrupting and defiling my son, I _do_ mind,” she said, her voice slipping out as a hiss between clenched teeth. Remus was delighted by this turn of phrase, and he tucked it away in the back of his mind to bring up again when he was alone with Sirius.

“That’s unfortunate for you, because, as it turns out,” Remus said, pausing for emphasis to place a tender (but equally as salacious) kiss to the back of Sirius’ neck. “I don’t give a shit.”

The laugh from Sirius’ lips was like a song that Remus wanted to replay over and over for the rest of his life. It was so glorious that Remus had joined in without intending to. Even James, tucked away somewhere behind them, barked out a purposefully loud laugh to accompany.

“Stay for dinner, won’t you, Mummy?” Sirius offered in total sarcasm, just to injure her ego that much more. After all, why would she stay and get insulted all night?

Apparently, that was exactly what she would do.

“I believe we will,” she said, and Remus’s shoulders went slack. If she was capable of a smile, it was in the pitiful, irritating way her mouth flattened out, as if in triumph. Remus could feel Sirius squirming underneath his fingertips, so he squeezed a little tighter.

“How wonderful.” There was a clench in Remus’ teeth that had arrived so abruptly it left a soreness in his jaw. Walburga returned to the couch, next to her mute husband, who had yet to say a single word. Not even to greet his prodigal son.

When the three of them retreated into the kitchen, Sirius groaned loudly, falling dramatically across the counter, his hands hanging limply from the other side.

“God, why am I such a fucking idiot? Now they’re _staying_?” James rested a placating hand on Sirius’ back, and Remus was again overwhelmed by how far Sirius had come. A fortnight ago, he would’ve tensed up at that touch. Just now, he seemed to be calmed by it.

Remus leaned into Sirius’ face, sliding his hand along Sirius’ stubbled cheek. “You have no imagination, love,” he reminded him. The night wasn’t over. That woman out there didn’t hate him yet. He still had work left to do. “We’re going to give them such a show that they will never want to come back.” The brightness returned to Sirius’ silver eyes.

“Oh, it is about to get _so_ gay,” James snickered. “I’m fucking here for this shit.”

Sirius snorted, half a laugh. “Don’t patronize my sexuality, Prongs.”

“He’s sort of right.” Remus tried to hide his enthusiasm. “We have to be disgustingly affectionate to make our point.” One dark, well-groomed eyebrow rose high on Sirius’ face.

“So, typical day, really,” James shrugged. Sirius threw a potholder at him.

It didn’t work out quite that easily. Being forced into physical contact was a known trigger for Sirius, and his mother’s overbearing presence certainly didn’t help the stress. Not to mention, Sirius’ need for touch was only at its peak when he was alone with Remus. Nearly every person he knew was sitting at the same table. Pete, Reg, Lily, James’ parents – all present, as well.

Twenty minutes into dinner and Sirius had barely touched his food (it was his favourite, as promised, Mrs. Potter’s cottage pie). Unsure, Remus kept trying to give Sirius a reassuring squeeze at his collarbone, and Sirius smiled in return, but tensed underneath Remus’ fingers.

Finally, Remus leaned over. “Come with me to the kitchen.” With Remus’ lips to his ear, Sirius leaned in, just a bit, the tension partly melting from his shoulders. When Remus stood, Sirius was close behind, anxious to get out of a room with such suffocating pressure.

Once in the privacy of the kitchen, Remus leaned up against a counter and spread his hands out behind him. Sirius watched him closely, cinder eyes narrow.

“Touch me, Sirius,” Remus said in a hush. A thick swallow instantly and visibly traveled down Sirius’ throat as his eyes grew a little less dull. But his shoulders sagged.

“I’m mucking this all up,” he groaned, shoving his face into his hands. The first instinct in Remus’ gut was to stop everything and take Sirius into his arms, but he stifled it for the moment.

“None of that matters, Pads.” He softened his voice, lowered it, to put Sirius more at ease. “If you don’t want to go through with it, then we can call it off right now.”

“No, I _do_ ,” Sirius whined, his voice high and sharp as he stepped over to Remus. “I want to shove this in my mother’s face until she has no choice but to leave.” His voice lowered as he continued. “I want to see what it takes to get you worked up in public.” Remus laughed.

“It won’t take much,” he said, craning his face down to level it to Sirius’, letting Sirius match the distance, running the bridge of his nose along the edge of Remus’ jaw.

“I _want_ to touch you, Moony,” he said in a whisper, lifting the edge of Remus’ shirt to run his fingers along the waist of Remus’ trousers. A deep breath filled Remus’ lungs.

“Then touch me,” he said on the exhale, his fingers gripping the sharp edge of the countertop behind him. Without so much as a moment’s hesitation, Sirius’ hand dipped forward, finding the semi-rigid imprint of Remus through the layers, his lips finding Remus’ throat.

“You’re already there,” Sirius mumbled with a laugh onto Remus’ skin.

“I’m _still_ there,” Remus corrected, raising his head to the ceiling to let out a heavy breath, flooded with the satisfaction in his voice. “Thinking about how much of you I saw earlier.”

Sirius’ kiss grew weightier against Remus’ throat, wandering to the notch at Remus’ sternum, across his collarbone, as far as the collar of Remus’ shirt would let him go.

“You were going to tell me earlier,” Sirius puffed out underneath his mouth, his tongue making lazy circles along every scar it found. “What is it that you wanted, Remus?”

Though Remus had been trying so hard to keep his hands to himself, he suddenly found one hand gripped tightly to the back of Sirius’ neck, burying into what little hair he could work them into, despite the knot Sirius had tied into his hair. Sirius didn’t seem to mind.

“I wanted to pull you into my mouth,” Remus confessed, a twitch in his hips as Sirius rolled his palm along Remus’ length. “And I think you wanted to let me.”

“Yes,” Sirius stated plainly, more breath than word. “I still do.” Without thinking, Remus’ other hand left the counter and held Sirius by the chin, roughly pulling his mouth to Remus’, waiting and open. The insistence of Remus’ kiss was fully reciprocated, Sirius’ tongue deep and heady within Remus’ mouth, his hands moving with impatient pressure.

The deeper Sirius kissed him, the more mindless his hands became until they were working the fastens of Remus’ trousers. His zipper was down before Remus could even come to his senses, Sirius’ hand slipping deftly into the open space he’d created.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus inhaled sharply as he pulled out of the chaotic kiss, his hand shooting down to grab Sirius by the wrist. Breathless and panting, Sirius looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“Oh, fuck, I didn’t even –” he trailed off. Remus could see where his thought went first.

“No, I …” Remus said, his cheeks growing a little more flushed as he considered how to explain. The expectant way Sirius was watching him did _not_ help, with his shifting silver eyes pooling around wide pupils and his lips kissed to the point of bruising. “I’m getting too close.”

Sirius went rather still. Except his eyes. His eyes darted around Remus’ face, letting them deliberately drift down Remus’ disheveled chest, eyebrow rising with every passing button.

“To hell with my parents,” he said, his eyes snapping forward to meet Remus’ mildly concerned gaze. He grabbed Remus’ hand and pulled him toward the kitchen door, Remus’ trousers still splayed wide around his hips. “I need to get you off. _Right fucking_ _now_.”

“ _Padfoot_ ,” Remus said with a pitiful laugh, holding Sirius back. “Not yet.”

“Moony, please, _please_ ,” Sirius pouted, a petulant little whine in the back of his throat, for the first time sounding like the spoiled rich kid he should’ve been, but never got to be.

Quickly, he turned back, but Remus stopped his hand before it met erect skin again. Instead, his hand went up the back of Remus’ neck, into the thick curls of his hair, and he stood at his full height to press his lips to Remus’ ear. Remus gave in to the warmth of Sirius’ breath, the pull of his teeth on Remus’ earlobe, the slide of Sirius’ tongue along the spine of Remus’ ear.

“Tell me you want me, Remus,” he breathed out hurriedly, moving his scathing kiss behind Remus’ ear, down the back of his neck, steadied by his hand on Remus’ throat.

“You know I do,” Remus whimpered, letting his eyes roll closed.

“Then let me take you upstairs,” Sirius offered, “and watch you climax for me.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Remus moaned in a staggered breath, falling back against the counter with Sirius just behind, pressing his hips into Remus’ to let him feel how hard he was. “Alright _. Yes_.”

“Yes?” Sirius asked, an anxious uptick in his voice.

“Yes,” Remus repeated. “After we get rid of your parents.”

Sirius took in a short breath. “Don’t lie to me, Remus.”

“After tonight, I’m not going to be able to say no to a fucking thing,” Remus growled, his throat feeling narrow. “Let’s get them the fuck out of here, so I can let you ruin me.”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Sirius exhaled hard, watching with devotion as Remus adjusted himself, working his aching skin back underneath the zipper of his trousers. He winced, glancing down at the overt swelling between his legs, rotating his hips to try to ease it. It did nothing.

“James’ parents are going to hate me for this,” he sighed.

Sirius beamed. “Hopefully, so will mine.”

They looked a bit like they had gotten into a fight – Sirius’ hair was half pulled out of its bun by the work of Remus’ demanding fingers, Remus’ collar stretched far enough to show too much skin, and he was _certain_ there were visible marks from Sirius’ teeth along his neck.

As they walked back into the dining room, the looks on Sirius’ parent’s faces were exactly what they had been hoping for. At the sight of their eldest son so defiled (as Sirius’ mother would say), their jaws slackened in surprise. Walburga looked at Remus like she would come over the table to strangle him. Remus smiled sweetly, but the look in his eye was a challenge.

“Pardon us,” he said, clearing his throat as he and Sirius took their seats. James looked like he was about to burst from holding in the laughter. “Sirius needed a stern talking-to in the kitchen.” He looked directly at Sirius’ mother. “I gave him quite the tongue-lashing.”

A sudden sputter erupted from one end of the table and Remus looked over to find Mrs. Potter covering her mouth, her shoulders trembling in silent laughter. Her eyes met Remus’ for only a moment, her eyes shining as she gave him a slight nod of approval. He winked at her.

James added fuel to the fire. “Oh, I’m sure Mrs. Black doesn’t want to hear about how _firmly_ you roughed up her son.” He shoved a forkful of cottage pie into his mouth, cheeks full.

“Don’t be absurd, Prongs,” Sirius added, chewing obnoxiously with his mouth wide open, just to watch his mother grind her teeth. “She’s very pro-discipline. She’ll be happy to hear that Remus is giving it to me so good.” This time, the choking came from Sirius’ father.

“I can attest to that,” Peter chimed in, leaning over James to point his fork in Walburga’s direction. “Just the other night, I walked past Sirius’ room and I could hear Remus really wailing on him. It sounded like _quite_ the punishment. Lots of screaming.” Remus nearly lost it.

“Right, I was there that night!” Lily agreed with an enthusiastic clasp of her hands. “And Sirius knew he deserved it, too, because I heard him asking Remus to go harder.” A revolted scoff erupted from Walburga’s throat as she threw her napkin onto the table.

Sirius let out a purposefully shaky breath as he looked over at Remus. “I’ve been rather naughty today, I think I might deserve a longer than usual session tonight.” In like fashion, Remus leaned over to press his lips to Sirius’ ear, holding Sirius’ by the throat and making sure to speak loudly enough for everyone at the table to hear. He added a desperate tremble into his fingers.

“God, the things I will do to you, Sirius Orion,” he breathed out heavy, sliding his hand from Sirius’ throat very deliberately down to his thigh, where it went unseen underneath the table, his touch left to their imagination. A near silent slip of breath fell from Sirius’ lips.

“That is enough!” Walburga shrieked. _There_ it was. Remus had been waiting for her to lose her composure, to scream, to show the rotten witch living underneath the polished surface.

“Whatever do you mean, Mother?” Sirius asked with a smile as Remus let himself get carried away with his lips so close to Sirius’ ear, his fingers so close to Sirius’ crotch, his belly still so full of the flutter of a near orgasm. His lips moved down, at the curve of Sirius’ jaw just below his ear, letting his hand move a little further up toward Sirius’ hips. There was a slight hitch in Sirius’ breathing as his fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, gripping tightly.

“You realize this isn’t a social call, Sirius,” his mother hissed, standing from the table so abruptly that her plate clattered in place. “We’ve come to try to talk some sense into you.”

Remus didn’t stop kissing Sirius just then. If anything, his irritation at Sirius’ spiteful mother increased the weight of his mouth. His fingers slipped tightly inside Sirius’ thigh.

“I was fairly certain you didn’t visit because of your unfailing love for your child,” Sirius said, very obviously trying to control his breathing, ragged from the work of Remus’ mouth.

“You cannot go through with that false testimony against Ethan,” she spat, and Remus bristled at the use of that man’s name. He moved his whole body closer to Sirius.

“Mother,” Regulus said sternly, and Remus glanced over at him. When their eyes met, Regulus’ face flushed a little as he watched Remus curl his tongue under Sirius’ jaw. “You know as well as we do that Sirius is telling the truth. He tried to tell you long before any of this.”

“Don’t join in their depravity, Regulus,” she snapped, slamming her palm onto the table.

“He _assaulted_ Sirius, Mother.” Regulus raised his voice slightly, anger trembling the typically calm wave of his tone. “And he did it because of his position in the university. He’s done it to others, before Sirius was enrolled and he’s continued it after Sirius dropped out.” 

“There is absolutely no proof of that,” she muttered under her breath. For a moment, Remus stalled his kisses, his hand quivering on Sirius’ leg. Sirius placed his hand over Remus’.

James spoke for him. “There are two of us who saw him with Sirius. Saw him pinning Sirius down after he bashed his head open. How’s that for proof?” Walburga was unfazed.

“One of whom went on to brutalize Ethan to the point of corrective surgery. Do you think the courts will look favorably on the testimony of _that_ witness?” Her face twitched with what would’ve been a smirk on any other face. “Such violence over such a simple misunderstanding.”

“A _misunderstanding_?” Remus finally tore himself away from Sirius, though Sirius managed to keep Remus’ hand tucked strongly within his own. “Sirius hasn’t slept in a week because of what that bastard did to him. But that’s an _improvement_ over his attempted suicide. But you wouldn’t know about that, because you don’t give a shit if he lives or dies.”

Her face tightened as she twisted her lips into a scowl. “Are you growing angry, Mr. Lupin? Should I be concerned that you’ll turn violent on me, the way you did with Ethan?” 

“Remus, don’t,” Sirius hissed as Remus stood, pulling his hand away. “She’s baiting you.”

“It’s _your_ face in his nightmares too, you know,” Remus spat, leaning on the table with one hand and sticking a finger into the face of Sirius’ mother. “You’re just as much to blame.”

“You should be careful in how you address me, young man,” she stated calmly, as if she still had an ace up her sleeve. “You’d surely rather not get on my bad side.”

Sirius spoke up, standing. “Are you _threatening_ him?” While his tone was mostly full of shock, there was a familiar edge of calculation that Remus often heard in Regulus’ voice.

“Convince them to drop the charges and I won’t have to,” Walburga sniffed haughtily, watching Remus with a treacherous gaze. Remus went still, knowing there were so many things in his life that this woman could take away. His parents, his education. She could take _Sirius_.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Remus asked, his mouth gone dry.

“I’ve recently met an old friend of yours. Now what was his name?” she said, toying with Remus as realization began to settle into his gut. No, no, no. She wouldn’t. She _wouldn’t_.

“Oh, yes,” she hummed under a villainous smile. “I’m sure you know Mr. Greyback.”

An immediate quiver went into Remus’ hand. He curled his fists to try to stop it, but it quickly spread into his feet, into his stomach, into his chest. His vision went dark, blinking in and out like electricity crackling. It left him reeling, unsettled, fighting the retch in the back of his throat and gripping the chest of his shirt like it was slowly tightening around him.

But he stifled it all down, like he always had. This was nothing new. Nothing that he didn’t face on his own, every fucking day. Since Fenrir’s release, he’d been waiting for this. Waiting for the news that Fenrir’s probation worker couldn’t find him, waiting to see Fenrir when he turned every dark corner, even in his own flat. This was _nothing_ new.

His only point of weakness was that he immediately reached out for Sirius, but Sirius’ hands were already there – one holding Remus’ still trembling hand, one at the center of Remus’ back. As Sirius spoke, his voice was emptier than Remus had ever heard it.

“You wretched bitch,” Sirius growled at his mother. “If you even _dare_ …”

“Do as I say, Sirius, and I won’t have to resort to such underhanded tactics.” Taking a deep breath, Remus squeezed Sirius’ hand tightly, glaring strongly at Walburga.

“Let him come.” Remus’ voice rumbled deep with both anger and terror. “I’ll do to him what I did to Ethan Carlisle.” The only thing keeping the crushing panic at bay was the pressure of Sirius’ grip on his hand and the warmth of him standing at Remus’ side.

“The conditions of his release state that he isn’t allowed anywhere _near_ Remus,” Sirius rattled off quickly, panic in his voice. Remus didn’t even know how Sirius knew that.

“Do you really want to take that risk?” his mother taunted.

“ _Get out_ ,” James said suddenly from the other end of the table, his voice hollow. At first, Walburga didn’t move a muscle. She stood stone still, watching Remus with unblinking eyes and an unwavering defiance. Until James repeated in a barbaric roar, “Get _the hell_ **_out_**!” 

With one last, sickening glance in Sirius’ direction, Walburga swatted Orion on the shoulder until he stood like a trained dog. The two of them retreated – Walburga walked with her nose high in the air and Orion followed, his head bowed low behind her.

As the sound of the slamming door echoed through the massive house, the strength in Remus’ legs gave out and he collapsed onto the chair underneath him. Sirius was quick behind, pulling Remus to his chest, his fingers immediately carding gently through Remus’ hair. Over and over, Remus whispered to himself, his voice muffled against Sirius’ chest.

_They won’t let him take me. They won’t let him hurt me. They won’t let him. They won’t._


	10. In The Dark of Night, Under Risk of Pain and Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY A CHAPTER THAT DOESN'T MAKE ME WANT TO DIE

**_ Sirius  _ **

The night after they’d heard about Greyback’s release, that night after Remus’ lips had first been unexpectedly introduced to Sirius’ skin, the night when Sirius realized he was falling for Remus – _that_ _night_ , Sirius had done some research. That night, instead of sleeping, he’d spent hours digging up the court documents related to Greyback’s release. He’d read every sentence. 

He had intended to tell Remus all the details the next morning, but it had been so early in their relationship then. He hadn’t been sure it would even be helpful for Remus to hear it. Not to mention all the other things that had barreled in for their attention. Sordid romance, mostly.

As it turned out, those documents hadn’t been helpful at all. Sirius couldn’t help but feel second-hand responsibility for this devastating turn of events. Because of _Sirius’_ _mother_ , Greyback could walk right back into Remus’ life to fuck it up all over again.

No, it was different now. Remus had an impenetrable group of friends that Greyback could never force his way through. They would all die to protect Remus from him. Sirius, most of all. He’d do a frightening number of things for Remus. Things he may never even say out loud.

Besides, Remus wasn’t a child anymore. He could _more_ than defend himself. Sirius has seen evidence of that. After dinner, Regulus had even shown Sirius a photo of Carlisle’s face after Remus had literally sent him to the hospital. Apparently, he had to have one of his front teeth replaced. If Sirius hadn’t been so miserable, he might’ve gone giddy at the sight of it.

Pete took Remus home right after Sirius’ parents left. It would be the first night that Remus hadn’t stayed over at the Potter’s in a week. The first night he hadn’t spent with Sirius in a week. It was selfish, but Sirius didn’t know how he would sleep without Remus next to him. Not that he was sleeping all that well anyway. The nightmares were certainly going to be worse.

Before they left, Sirius managed to stall Remus’ abrupt departure, getting a single moment alone with him while Peter was busy talking strategy with James.

“Stay, Remus,” Sirius had begged, holding both of Remus’ hands. “Stay with me.” 

Remus hadn’t stayed. He had barely even responded to Sirius’ request. His golden eyes were stagnant, like a glass of cognac left in the sun, evaporated and leaving behind a dark, sickly syrup. His eyes didn’t even meet Sirius’ then, either. He hadn’t even faked a smile.

For the last several hours, Sirius had sent text after text to Remus. All of them had gone unanswered. Sirius wasn’t sure if Remus was intentionally ignoring him or if he had shut his mobile off to block out the stimulation. Worry had never before struck Sirius so completely. 

James and Lily had stayed up with Sirius for quite some time, and Sirius knew they didn’t want to leave him alone. Not on his first night without his Moony. Eventually, Sirius told them goodnight. If he couldn’t be with Remus, he just wanted to be alone.

As he settled into bed, feeling the weight of the day in his chest and in his breath, he let out a loud, frustrated sigh into the air above his pillow. _One last time_ , he told himself as he pulled his mobile out. Still nothing from Remus. He would send just one more text. Before deciding what to say, he read over the ones he had already sent. The ones with no replies.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Padfoot: did you make it home?**

**Padfoot: I know you’re not okay, but**

**Padfoot: your mobile might be off**

**Padfoot: if you’re there, talk to me**

**Padfoot: please, moony.**

**_________________________________________________________**

Several messages typed out were scrapped. There was nothing he could say that could fix this. If anything, this was his fault, in a roundabout sort of way. If he wasn’t in Remus’ life, Remus never would’ve pummeled Carlisle to protect Sirius, Sirius’ parents would’ve never come over, they never would’ve threatened to sick Greyback on him. God, how fucked up his family was.

 _I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m so in love with you. I don’t know what to do without you. I’m being so selfish but come back to me, Moony_. Every single one, deleted. The guilt had begun to creep into Sirius’ chest until his heart felt squeezed by it. He typed out one last message.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Padfoot: I understand if you don’t ever want to**

**see me again. But I really hope you do.**

**_________________________________________________________**

Realistically, Remus had every right to cut Sirius out of his life completely. That way, Greyback could no longer be used as leverage. That way, Remus could no longer be used as a bargaining chip by his mother. That way, Remus could no longer get hurt again.

He had nearly given up. It had been hours, and he still hadn’t heard a word from Remus, despite the massive amount of texts that he’d sent. Just as he buried his face in his pillow, resigned to another night of waking in a cold sweat, his mobile buzzed.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Moony_ : this isn’t your fault, sirius

**Padfoot: Moony**

**Padfoot: I was worried**

_Moony_ : i’m sorry

**Padfoot: don’t be**

**Padfoot: I won’t ask if you’re alright**

_Moony_ : i shouldn’t have left

**Padfoot: you had every right to leave**

_Moony_ : i made you a promise

**Padfoot: don’t worry about that, moons**

_Moony_ : right now, it’s all i want to do

**Padfoot: trust me, I’d love to let you**

**Padfoot: but it can wait. I can wait.**

_Moony_ : every time we wait, something

fucking happens

_Moony_ : i’m so fucking tired of this, pads.

_Moony_ : i’m tired of being this fucking

delicate

**Padfoot: no, love**

**Padfoot: the Moony I know is NOT delicate**

_Moony_ : i was tonight

_Moony_ : your mum said one name and i fell

to fucking pieces

**Padfoot: that’s what she DOES**

**Padfoot: she always knows that one thing**

**Padfoot: and she will always use it**

_Moony_ : she was eight steps ahead of us

**Padfoot: that’s because she treats everything**

**like a game of strategy**

**Padfoot: and we’re not PLAYING**

**Padfoot: we’re just trying to stay alive.**

_Moony_ : we suck at staying alive

Padfoot: moony what does that mean

_Moony_ : nothing, pads, i’m okay

**Padfoot: are you sure?**

**Padfoot: do I need to come over?**

_Moony_ : if you came over right now

_Moony_ : i wouldn’t

_Moony_ : i don’t know what i’d do

**Padfoot: moony**

**Padfoot: you can do ANYTHING you need**

**Padfoot: i would do anything you need**

**Padfoot: just let me come over.**

_Moony_ : come over then

_Moony_ : i need you.

**_________________________________________________________**

Sirius barely threw on a jacket before he was out the door. Remus _needed_ him. For the first time in a very long time, he didn’t feel like he was burdening Remus, didn’t feel like Remus was sacrificing everything to comfort him. No, now Remus _needed_ him. It was finally Sirius’ turn to be the one to put Remus back together again.

When Sirius arrived at Remus’ flat, Remus was waiting for him, watching for him from the windowsill, a cigarette between his teeth. Everything about him looked drained. His hair was still disheveled from where Sirius had run his fingers through it, the shirt he had been wearing was still disheveled from the work of Sirius’ hands, unbuttoned down to the center of his chest. The circles under his eyes were dark with lack of sleep, the mouth usually turned up in a smile was flat, listless as he sucked in much too heavy a breath with far too much smoke.

But when he saw Sirius, it all changed. It wasn’t a very drastic change, but Sirius could still see it. His shoulders laxed a bit, his face softened a bit. He let out a held breath, veiling the relief in his face behind a curtain of smoke. As he spoke Sirius’ name, he sighed.

“ _Pads_ ,” he exhaled. “Thank God.”

Sirius took the stairs three at a time.

The front door to their flat was open as soon as Sirius reached the landing and Remus was leaning on the doorway, waiting. When he caught sight of Sirius rounding the last stair, he let go of the doorframe. As he moved toward Sirius, he was barely holding himself up. When Sirius reached him, it was in collision, ducking down to catch Remus before he hit cement.

“Moony,” Sirius said, no room for anything but concern in his breath.

“I didn’t … I’m sorry,” Remus said, his words slurring. A short breath fell from Sirius’ lips. If he had known Remus was in this condition, he would’ve come over much earlier. Granted, he _should’ve_ known. Because it was the same thing he had done, just to a tamer extent.

“I should’ve come sooner,” Sirius said under his breath, mostly at himself. 

“I didn’t want it to matter that much,” Remus mumbled into Sirius’ chest as Sirius half-dragged him back into the flat. Luckily, it was late enough for Pete to be passed out on the sofa, though Sirius was fairly certain he had been up with Remus as long as he could stay conscious.

“I wanted to be here even if it _hadn’t_ mattered that much.” Sirius lowered his voice as they walked carefully through the flat. In Remus’ room, _gorge_ by quickly, quickly was quietly playing through his mobile, and Sirius let a tender smile cross over his lips. Whenever Remus was stressed, he immediately turned on his favorite playlist to help calm him down.

As he lowered Remus into his bed, a little ungraciously, Remus let out a groan. Sirius went to pull away, to curl up on the floor next to Remus’ bed, to hold Remus’ hand as it draped over the edge of the mattress before tucking it back underneath the sheets. He wasn’t able to do any of those things, because Remus refused to let go of his hand.

“Don’t leave, _please_ don’t leave,” Remus said, his voice soft and pleading while his grip was tight and trembling. Sirius knelt next to the bed, holding onto Remus with both hands.

“I’m not going anywhere, Moony, I swear.”

“God, this is so unattractive,” Remus groaned, throwing his hand over his eyes and laughing to himself. “I was supposed to take you to bed after dinner.”

A smile flashed over Sirius’ lips. “Do you not recall that time you kissed me while crying into my chest? When I said I liked it _a lot_ and how I wanted you to keep going? Because I clearly remember that.” The loud laugh from Remus’ lips filled the room and Sirius sighed in relief.

“That wasn’t a kiss. You said it wasn’t.” Sirius scoffed.

“I only said it wasn’t because I was afraid you were straight.”

“Up until you, I’d never kissed a bloke before,” Remus confessed, the thickness in his voice falling out as warm breath against Sirius’ temple.

“Wait, did I _convert_ you?” Sirius’ voice spiked in pitch.

“I didn’t say you were the first bloke I was _attracted_ to,” Remus said with a hint of sarcasm and mystery in his tone, his eyebrow rising high on his forehead.

“Well, up until you, I’d never had phone sex before, so,” Sirius said, pulling his lips into his teeth as Remus’ gaze latched onto his own. The honey was starting to return to his eyes.

“That was a first for both of us, then,” Remus grinned, craning his neck to reach Sirius’ lips. The taste of whiskey on his lips was so strong that Sirius thought he might come away drunk.

“The point is,” Sirius continued, “Nothing you do is unattractive to me, Moons.”

“Even drinking myself into a coma?” Remus huffed, his breath spiked with alcohol.

“I’ll admit, I’d rather you _didn’t_ do that,” Sirius laughed. “But the truth is,” he trailed off to place a wicked kiss to Remus’ lips. “You’re more attractive drunk than most people sober.”

Remus let slip an unguarded laugh before it dissolved into a heavy, prolonged moan. “Oh, _nooo_ ,” he whined. “I’m too drunk to defend myself against your silver tongue.”

Sirius just smiled. “Are you afraid I’ll take advantage of you?”

“ _Could_ you?” Remus breathed out, not overlooking the widening of Sirius’ pupils.

“I’ll do anything you need me to, Moony,” Sirius promised, brushing the wild tendrils of hair from Remus’ face, and Remus closed his eyes to revel in it. “You want me to strip for you, I’ll strip. You want me to touch you, I’ll touch you. Hell, I’ll give you a full fucking lap dance, if that’s what you want.” A loud laugh pushed through Remus’ lips, but it tapered off far too quickly.

“Do you think she meant it?” Remus asked, his voice timid. A sharp, jagged edge went right into Sirius’ heart – he even winced in response as he decided what to say.

“She was probably bluffing,” Sirius said, trying hard to keep a straight face through such a belligerent lie. His mother had never bluffed. When she said Sirius would go without dinner for three days after he spoke out of turn, she meant it. When she said she would lock Sirius out of the house after he got caught kissing that boy in secondary school, she did it. She yelled and cursed and bullied and threatened, but _never_ failed to follow through.

“I don’t want to know how I would react if I saw him in person,” Remus said under a quivering voice that could barely hold its volume. Sirius tightened his grip.

“You won’t have to know. I’m not going to let him anywhere near you.” Softly, he placed his lips against Remus’ forehead, warmer than Sirius had ever felt it. The touch of Remus’ fingers traveled up Sirius’ arm, until he was pulling at Sirius with both hands.

“How long will you stay?” he asked in a whisper, moving further to the wall so Sirius could lie next to him and Sirius didn’t hesitate a moment in climbing into his bed. A song that Sirius didn’t recognize had been playing, but the lyrics riled an agony hidden within his heart.

_But please, remember me. My misery. And how it lost me all I wanted._

“For as long as you’ll have me.” He worked his arms around Remus’ waist, pulling him in close as Remus’ breathing began to slow, becoming more even and less ragged. With Remus to his chest, Sirius combed his fingers through Remus’ hair, breathing in the scent left behind.

There was so much familiar – cigarette smoke and paint fumes and Sirius’ shampoo, transferred from Remus’ hands to his hair. But there was far too much foreign, things that Sirius couldn’t account for, things that happened when Sirius hadn’t been there. Things like salt at his ears from the tears rolling down his temples, or the distinctly bitter smell from catching the lit end of a cigarette in his hair when his face had been deeply buried into his hands.

Sirius tried so hard to stay awake, to be ready when Remus inevitably woke from a nightmare. To do what Remus had spent the last week doing for him. But the further Remus fell into sleep, the heavier he became, the warmer he became, until Sirius couldn’t fight it anymore.

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

It was a dreamless sleep. That was what he’d been trying to achieve with the massive amounts of alcohol he’d ingested throughout the evening. When he woke, Sirius was asleep on his chest, despite how he had fallen asleep holding Remus in his arms.

For a moment, he forgot. There was only Sirius, warm and comfortable on top of him, his hair tossed back against Remus’ throat. He smelled sweet, like milk tea and coconut from the shampoo that Remus had lathered into his hair earlier in the day.

The realization crept in quietly. It started as an odd feeling in the depths of his stomach, in the hollows of his chest. At first, he couldn’t place the feeling, couldn’t recall what had led to it, like trying to remember a nightmare days after waking from it.

 _Fenrir_ , Remus said to himself, vaguely recognizing that he whispered the name out loud into the dark, into the coils of Sirius’ hair underneath his lips. There was relief in his chest at saying the name out loud, and that terrified him more than seeing the man himself.

But it wasn’t relief at remembering Fenrir, exactly. It was relief from knowing that Fenrir hadn’t found him yet, that Fenrir wasn’t close. It was relief because this was _his_ monster, a familiar fear he knew how to manage. The terror in his chest was nothing but the residue of the original. It belonged to a child, and Remus was no longer a child.

More importantly, this relief was in realizing that the panic in his heart wasn’t related to the panic that had been dwelling there for the last several weeks. It wasn’t the panic that he reserved for Sirius. It wasn’t the suffocating, debilitating horror that he had felt seeing Sirius lying motionless in his flat with empty drug capsules beside him. Anything else, he could manage fine.

With a furrow in his brow, he looked down at Sirius, grateful that he was asleep for once, as he’d apparently been keeping himself awake without Remus knowing. For a moment, Remus just watched him, listening to his even breathing and remembering what it was like to _not_ hear Sirius breathing. The crippling ache that had filled his body that day surged for a moment before he reminded himself that it would never happen again. He would never let it happen again.

Carefully, he cradled Sirius’ head in his palm, adjusting him down to the mattress, delicately enough not to wake him. He just needed a smoke. He just wanted to feel the cool, night air on his face. Thoughts of Fenrir and Sirius’ overdose had made his bedroom _suffocating_.

As carefully as he could, he opened his bedroom window, settling himself into it the way he always did when he smoked, with one foot dangling against the wall outside. While his hands busied with lighting a smoke, his free-hanging foot twitched nervously, occasionally knocking his bony heel against the wall. His eyes, though glazed over, still stayed alert for any movement from the shadow. Any sign that the man who had ruined his life had come to try again.

The alcohol still buzzed in the depths of his blood, but it had burned off so quickly. Its absence left him with dread, encroaching and tightening in his chest, and the accompanying nausea that filled his throat. He kept swallowing, and it kept rising back up again. He paused for a moment to close his eyes, to clear his head. To figure out what the fuck he needed to do.

A violent inhale on the cigarette between his lips filled his lungs and he held it down as long as he could. When his lips parted, the smoke trickled out like a whisper, and he wondered if he could feel it drift across his skin or if he was just that desperate to be touched.

God, was he desperate for it. It wasn’t only how he’d spent most of the day with Sirius between his legs or having Sirius’ touch between his. It wasn’t _just_ the bath, it wasn’t _just_ seeing Sirius naked for the first time, it wasn’t _just_ a culmination of the last few aching weeks.

Just then, it was the uncertainty that made him want to take Sirius into his arms and whisper adoration into his ear and sing praises into his skin. It was the feeling of being robbed of control that made him want to control anything he could. To control the things he could make Sirius feel or the love he could make Sirius confess into the dark with Remus’ lips to his skin.

With a dedicated breath, he looked over at where Sirius was lying in his bed, his dark hair tossed gracefully over Remus’ white sheets. His arm was draped over his stomach, hand hanging in the elegant curve of his long waist, skin visible from where his oversized shirt had come up.

Tossing the remainder of his cigarette from the window, Remus pulled his leg back inside and shut the pane behind him. Silently, he made his way over to the bed, kneeling beside the mattress. His fingers gently brushed the hair from Sirius’ pale skin, taking the time to curve around behind Sirius’ ear, circling back to trail along his jawline, to feel the stubble at his cheek.

As Remus’ touch met the dramatic pout of Sirius’ bottom lip, Sirius stirred from his sleep, humming contentedly at the delicate tracing of his features, eyes still closed. On Remus’ mobile, still playing his “STRESSED AF” playlist, _Fever to the Form_ by Nick Mulvey quietly began.

_So, go on – fill your heart up with gladness._

_Not a moment too soon. Not a moment too soon._

“ _Moony_ ,” Sirius sighed, puckering his lips against the pads of Remus’ fingertips, leaving Remus captivated by the absent, mindless movement of his mouth. “I dreamt of you.”

“A good one?” Remus asked, letting his fingers trail from Sirius’ lips in order to replace them with his own lips. In the kiss, Sirius hummed again, but it was deeper, hungrier.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” he breathed out, his eyes still closed. As he put his hand up to hold it to Remus’ face, Remus turned his head to let his lips travel across Sirius’ palm, down his wrist.

“Tell me about it. _Please_ ,” Remus whispered into Sirius’ skin, sending shivers up Sirius’ arm, and Sirius finally opened his eyes to watch Remus press rich kisses into his forearm.

“It started the same way a lot of my dreams start.” Sirius spoke in a hush, his hooded eyes focused solely on the trail of Remus’ mouth, his widening kisses. “You climb in through my bedroom window at my parents’ house.” A snarl went instinctively into Remus’ lip. 

“This was a good dream, right?” Remus confirmed, vacantly pressing his bared teeth to the soft skin at the inside of Sirius’ forearm. An easy laugh gave him the answer.

“Be patient, love,” Sirius replied, and Remus softened at the pet name, resuming his tender tirade up Sirius’ arm. “You tell me to lock the door. My mother is on the other side.”

“You’re losing me here, Sirius,” Remus huffed out a laugh into the crook of Sirius’ elbow, and Sirius shivered momentarily at the ticklish breath against his skin.

“You pin me to the door, and I wrap my legs around your hips,” Sirius said, his breath coming up a little short, a little shallow. Remus used his nose to push the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt up his shoulder so his lips can reach more of Sirius’ skin. He wanted to reach so much more.

“Oh?” he asked, feeling rather short of breath himself.

“From the other side of the door, my mother is shouting,” Sirius recalled, pulling the collar of his shirt down to let Remus at whatever skin he wanted to reach. “She’s calling me a slag, but I’m not paying attention, because you’re pressed between my legs.” A jump over the bunched fabric of Sirius’ shirt and Remus’ lips reached his collarbone. He bit down softly.

“ _Oh_ ,” Remus repeated with more breath, his words vibrating against his teeth where they were wrapped around Sirius’ collarbone. A weighted, aching sigh fell from Sirius’ lips.

“And I’m cursing, ‘ _fuck, Moony’_ ,” Sirius exhaled sharply as Remus moved to his throat, letting his tongue slide over Sirius’ Adam’s apple, curling underneath Sirius’ chin. “ _Fuck_.”

“Say it again,” Remus begged, feeling a twitch in his hips.

“God, I’ll say it as often as you like,” Sirius laughed breathlessly just as Remus took a chance in letting his hand slip underneath the hem of Sirius’ shirt. Not even a flinch. “Fuck.”

“Keep going.”

“You tell me to say it louder. To make her hear me.” Sirius’ voice went tight, his throat narrowed as Remus placed his teeth around it, biting down lightly, but deliberately. “And you tell me the more she insults me, the more you want to suck me off.” Unintentionally, Remus let out a whimper, the pace of his heart feeling like it had moved into his throat and his hips.

“Sirius, I _do_ ,” Remus confessed in a quiet voice, but Sirius went on as if he hadn’t heard him, and maybe he hadn’t, but Remus was suddenly afraid he was pushing a little too far. 

“Right when you go to your knees, and you’re tearing off the clothes that are in your way,” Sirius paused, taking a moment to swallow hard, to take a breath, “that’s when the dream usually stops and the nightmare takes over.” For a moment, Remus stopped, leaning back.

“And this time?” he asked cautiously. Sirius took a sharp breath inward, looking over at Remus and noticing that he was still kneeling beside the bed.

“This time,” he said, grabbing a handful of Remus’ shirt and heaving him close, letting their mouths crash together as Sirius coaxed Remus onto the bed. “This time, you pulled me right into your throat and I imagined the way you would look up at me while you blow me.”

“ _Jesus_ , Sirius,” Remus whined as he settled on top of where Sirius lay, for the first time letting his full weight rest on top of Sirius, feeling every twitch of Sirius’ hips between his legs, feeling every spike of Sirius’ pulse underneath his tongue. “I want you so fucking much.”

“I know, Moony, I know,” Sirius panted, curving his head back deep into the pillow to give Remus every angle of his throat and every hollow noise that escaped from it.

“I don’t think I can hold myself back.” Remus’ breath trembled as he let his thumb drag roughly over each sharp curve of Sirius’ throat, his lips following in its wake.

“I don’t want you to.” With his hand still perched on Sirius’ bare hip, Remus rested most of his weight on his knees, the remainder found in the pressure of his mouth against Sirius’. His hands free, he let them both slide up Sirius’ abdomen, all soft skin and protruding bone.

“But I want to do everything _right_ ,” Remus whined into Sirius’ mouth before his lips traveled again down Sirius’ neck, his hands pushing Sirius’ shirt further up his chest.

“There is no right, Moony,” Sirius replied softly, just as Remus’ open lips moved from his throat to his chest, and his soft reply became an indelicate gasp. “I want you just like this.”

Remus’ replies got lost between his mouth and Sirius’ skin, so much softer and pliable than he expected, every inch forming to his lips like they were created together. His fingers dipped into the valleys of Sirius’ ribs, leaving dark red trails from the desperation of his grip.

“You want me like _this_?” Remus repeated, breathing his words out into Sirius’ skin, his mouth sinking lower, _lower_ , until he reached the edge of Sirius’ ribcage and he let his lips slide over it on their way down. “You can’t want me like this. I’m … I’m not –” His words dissolved into a moan as his mouth began to _devour_ the skin underneath it, the delicate, sensitive skin just above Sirius’ hipbone with the heat and rigidity and length of Sirius pressed below his throat.

“ _What_ , Remus? Say it to me.” Less than carefully, Remus pulled Sirius up, tearing the shirt from over his head and hurling it off into the room. It left Sirius with an unsteady breath.

“I feel _violent_ , Sirius,” he admitted in a cavernous growl that vibrated on its way out as his lips met Sirius’ skin again. Sirius curved into the stimulation, winding his fingers deep into the riotous curls of Remus’ hair. “I feel violent and angry and manic. You don’t _want_ that. Trust me.”

“Why _wouldn’t_ I?” Sirius was keeping his responses short, and Remus wondered if it was from the stunted breaths he was struggling to take in, or if it was the descent of Remus’ mouth against his skin, or if it was the way Remus was deliberately swallowing hard to unsettle him.

“If I don’t slow down,” Remus exhaled hard, puffing out hot against Sirius’ belly as his trembling fingers traced the elastic of Sirius’ boxers that peeked over the top of those dark jeans that always hung so lazily from his gaunt hips, “I’m not going to be able to stop.”

“Do you _want_ to stop?” Sirius asked, his voice as soft as it could be with the amount of breath that was moving through it, but it still sounded so raked with fire.

“What I want,” Remus’ voice rumbled with wicked intent as he looked up at Sirius, his fingers hesitating at the button of Sirius’ jeans. Finally, he saw the anxious heaving of Sirius’ chest, the ring of silver light around Sirius’ widely dilated pupils, the dedicated way Sirius’ gaze was drawn to Remus’ lips against his stomach. “What I want is for you to stop having to imagine the way I’d look up at you. What I want is for you to see the sickening amount that I want it.”

“Want what?” Sirius prodded breathlessly, eyebrow twitching upward.

“Don’t you _know_?” Remus hummed, dragging his hands into the deep curves of Sirius’ waist, pulling his body off the mattress to meet his mouth. Sirius let out an inelegant breath.

“I want you to say it.” For a moment, Remus was silent, but he was far from still – his fingers began to work hastily at the button of Sirius’ jeans, then the zipper, until he could clearly see the erect imprint of Sirius beneath the fabric left between. Impatiently, his fingers hovered.

With a heavy breath that Remus could feel reflect in the tensing of Sirius’ abdomen, Remus let his fingers fall, brushing tenderly against the outline of Sirius. The reaction from Sirius was immediate and profound – his hips arched instinctively into Remus’ touch, his moan like a song with all melody and no lyric. The frenzy in Remus’ chest stirred and spread into his hips.

“God, I just want to kiss you,” Remus purred, the end of his confession mumbled behind his lips as he closed them around Sirius, the heat of his mouth spreading into the fabric beneath it. The grip of Sirius’ fingers in Remus’ hair tightened as the pitch of his voice spiked with breath.

“ _Remus_ ,” he breathed out, staggered and vacant, as Remus mouthed around him.

“To kiss you until you come away dizzy,” Remus continued, tucking his fingers into Sirius’ boxers, feeling rather dizzy himself at the warmth of the skin underneath his touch. “To swallow you whole until you’re trembling underneath me.” He wet his lips in preparation for it.

“Yes, _God_ , yes,” Sirius called out in an echoing sigh. As Remus’ fingers curled around the fabric, he pulled slowly, savoring every slice of skin until Sirius’ hips were bare before him and he could look at him fully, with avarice and aching and adoration.

“Oh,” he said, the sound falling out in a singular breath. “ _Sirius_.” His desperate gaze wandered erratically across this rare landscape, from the delicate, dark hair trailing down from Sirius’ belly button, to the shadows that the moonlight cast over the skeletal bones of his hips, to Sirius’ plush pink head just underneath Remus’ lips. All he had to do was learn forward.

“ _Moony_ ,” Sirius repeated his name with fervor the moment Remus’ lips brushed over him, one hand quivering in Remus’ hair, the other curled fast into the sheets of Remus’ bed.

“ _Now_ do you know?” Remus asked in a quiet, shattered voice before pursing his lips to fully surround the head of Sirius’ cock, swirling his tongue over every raised edge. In response, the muscles in Sirius’ hips tensed as he curved up from the mattress, a stifled howl in the back of his throat that had all the sounds of Remus’ name. “I worship you like a _god_ , Sirius Orion.”

The howl dissolved into a whimper as Remus pulled the vestiges of Sirius’ clothes from his skin and let his hands slide all the way up Sirius’ legs as he returned to his place, nestled deep between Sirius’ legs. But Sirius had gone suddenly distant, eyes dark and hollow.

“I have nothing worth worshipping,” he whispered into the darkness. As a violent and dissenting reply, Remus took the whole of Sirius deep into his throat, and what was once a whimper evolved into a full-chested, unbridled moan, full of pleasure and gratitude.

“Oh, darling, let me but count the ways,” Remus moaned, his words mumbled as he drew up, careful not to let Sirius stray too far from his lips, his hand making up the difference. “I could fill a hymnal with ballads about your eyes _alone_ ,” Remus spoke in prose, anxious to make a point, to prove to Sirius, indefinitely, that he was worthy of worship and deserving of praise.

To Remus’ surprise, Sirius spoke. “Please don’t stop.”

Struck by the sincerity and impatience in Sirius’ voice, Remus stalled his words of glory and admiration to bury Sirius in his mouth once more, stroking him broadly with his tongue as he moved up and down. And Sirius took this chance to _fall apart_ , moaning louder and heavier and deeper, but just as orchestral, just as holy. It sent a visceral shudder down Remus’ spine.

“I don’t even have the words to describe how soft your skin is or to express my absolute awe at the feeling of your cock between my teeth.” Remus’ words fell out rushed and desperate, anxious to pull Sirius back into his open mouth again, to brutalize Sirius with his tongue. 

“Oh my God. Remus, oh my _God_ ,” Sirius growled, pulling violently at Remus’ hair in his fist, as Remus opened his throat and took Sirius in again, so deep that he would’ve choked on it if he wasn’t so manic, so utterly ruined, so desperate to feel Sirius’ orgasm drip down his throat.

He swallowed Sirius so fervently that he lost himself in it, humming and moaning and gripping Sirius’ hips to pull him in as far as he could take him. Sirius lost himself in it, too, driving his cock down Remus’ throat further with every zealous roll of his hips until he was satisfactorily buried within it. And Remus was taking him _effortlessly_ , absolutely letting Sirius have control, letting Sirius fuck him in the mouth. He slid his hand up the back of Sirius’ thigh, gripping his skin so tightly that he absently wondered if he would leave claw marks.

But there was so much more than Remus wanted to do. While he was desperate to get Sirius to an orgasm, he had so much more he wanted to make Sirius feel. When he pulled off with a wet smack, Sirius let out a loud, aching whimper, falling still onto the mattress, as if Remus had sucked him dry of every ounce of energy. But it only lasted a moment.

“Goddammit, Moony. God _fucking_ dammit,” Sirius whined, _writhing_ underneath him, grabbing for the hem of Remus’ shirt. Remus straightened to let him tear it over his head, smiling as he listened to Sirius continue to curse his name, recognizing the twitch it sent into his cock.

“I need you to stay with me, Sirius. Not yet,” Remus cooed as Sirius snarled. With Remus’ shirt gone, Sirius’ hands went straight to Remus’ stomach, rising and falling with every raised scar and carved-out valley in his skin. Remus wholly gave into it, the reverence evident on his face.

“When you said you felt _violent_ ,” Sirius hummed, as Remus leaned in to let him place a sloppy, sweltering kiss to the base of Remus’ throat. “I thought maybe you’d put your hands around my throat. This is more _cruel_ than violent.” A laugh bubbled up from Remus’ throat.

“Be patient, love,” Remus smirked, throwing Sirius’ own words back at him, and Sirius cursed again as his kiss moved down Remus’ chest. After unfastening Remus’ trousers rather hastily, his fingers effortlessly slipped past the newly splayed borders of Remus’ jeans. There was no hesitation, no flinch in his touch as his fingers slid roughly down the thrumming length of Remus, concealed underneath dark boxer-briefs. Remus pulled in a single, deep breath, as _Unobstructed Views_ by Death Cab for Cutie trilled through his mobile phone in the background.

_No unobstructed view. No perfect truths. Just our love._

_And there’s no verse, no monument of words for our love._

As Sirius’ hands tugged at the things that kept Remus hidden, his eyes refocused on Remus’ face. When Remus was exposed, kneeling over where Sirius lay, Sirius let his eyes travel, down Remus’ naked chest, his abdomen, his hips. His voracious gaze continued to scatter as he tugged at the remainder of Remus’ clothes, silently convincing Remus to step off the bed to get rid of them. Remus obeyed, anxious to feel nothing but Sirius under his own skin.

The moment Remus returned, straddling naked on top of him, Sirius’ mercurial eyes went wide, a hard swallow traveling slow down the long expanse of Sirius’ throat.

“ _Goddammit_ , Moony,” he repeated in barely a whisper as his hands went to Remus’ thighs, running them up to Remus’ hips, his fingers finding that scar that ran all the way down, from Remus’ belly to his ankle. As he pressed his thumb into the crevice of that scar, following it down without interruption of fabric, his eyebrows rose with the breath in his chest.

An elicit breath hissed through Remus’ teeth as Sirius’ fingers finally brushed against the swollen, erect skin between Remus’ legs. When Sirius wrapped a loose fist around him, Remus had to remind himself to breathe. When Sirius began stroking him with his long, elegant fingers, Remus struggled to pull himself away, letting out an unstable breath as he did. 

At first, Sirius groaned at the loss of Remus’ heat in his still-curled fist, but he grew quiet as Remus nodded back to the wall behind Sirius, at the head of Remus’ bed. Sirius followed his direction, watching expectantly as Remus straddled Sirius’ thighs.

Quickly, he retrieved a bottle from the beside drawer and lubricated his hands before they went immediately to Sirius’ cock, slicking him from base to tip. The formless sound that tore from Sirius’ throat was hallowed, consecrated like a holy relic, while the unhindered hedonism in the way his mouth hung open to let that sound out was godless and profane. Delirious with thirst, Remus couldn’t help how deeply he buried his lips into the curve at Sirius’ neck.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty,” Remus whispered like a prayer into his skin, languidly pressing deep kisses into the soft skin underneath Sirius’ jaw, listening to Sirius react.

A soft, airy laugh slipped past Sirius’ lips as Remus leaned back, just to look at him, just to catch the ephemeral rose blush that he knew would be at the corner of Sirius’ eyes. “I was afraid you wouldn’t find me attractive after you saw how much I look like my mother,” Sirius smirked arrogantly, sharp eyebrow risen high, his eyes flittering down to the movement of Remus’ hands on his skin. He watched with dedication, breathing shallow as Remus fondled him for a moment, just to revel in the feeling of holding Sirius in his hands, wanting and unyielding.

“All the things your parents have fucked up, at least they’ve given me _you_ ,” Remus hummed purposefully as he let one hand drift over to himself, with Sirius’ eyes immediately following his movement. His hips jerked headily at his own touch, he let out a sharp breath.

An irritated sigh pressed from Sirius’ lips. “I think they would argue the _giving_ rather strongly,” he said, his breath catching as Remus’ cock visibly twitched within his fingers.

“Then I stole you away in the dark of night, under risk of pain and death,” Remus continued, undeterred by Sirius’ argument, unaccepting of his self-deprivation.

“Pain and death,” Sirius repeated, his voice dropping significantly as his thoughts clearly returned to the threat his mother had issued Remus earlier in the evening.

“Let your parents threaten me,” he growled, voice insistent and reckless as he desperately pulled Sirius’ mouth into his, tongue sliding deep. He could feel the remnants of lubricant on his fingers as they slipped over Sirius’ neck. At the same time, he took Sirius into his hand again, aligning their hips so that when he thrust forward, he slid down the length of Sirius’ cock, warm and throbbing and wet. “Let them see the lengths I will go to keep you.”

“Oh, _God_ , yes,” Sirius moaned out his vocal appreciation, throwing his head back to let Remus sink his teeth into his skin, biting _just enough_ at the muscle behind Sirius’ collarbone.

“I will ruin anyone who would try to take you from me.” The needy way Sirius’ responded to the vitriol in Remus’ voice was abundant and apparent, but it didn’t last long.

“Why risk this for me, Moony? Why risk him coming back for _me_?” Sirius panted, anger and insistence in his voice, trying to mask the salacious moan that followed just behind them as Remus let his fingers tighten around them both, pressing himself harder to Sirius.

For a moment, Remus went still, leaning in to press their foreheads together, to unsettle Sirius’ lips, to move them with his own. “Jesus, Sirius, do you not see how much I _adore_ you?”

Even with the illicit position they found themselves in, as Remus looked at Sirius, through the silver moonlight coming in from his bedroom window, a splash of pink still crossed over Sirius’ cheeks. But he didn’t break his gaze from Remus’. If anything, it strengthened.

“Nobody has ever said that to me. In all my life,” Sirius whispered. “Say it again.”

“I adore you, Sirius,” he repeated, leaning in to place a rapturous kiss to Sirius’ lips, injecting more breath into his voice, speaking into Sirius’ lips so he could _feel_ it. And Sirius reveled in it, letting his eyes roll back as his hooded lids fluttered closed in pleasure.

“ _Again_ ,” Sirius begged, arching his hips so that Remus could feel the whole pulsating length of him as he slipped in and out of his fingers. A surprised breath fell from Remus’ open lips as Sirius took control of the pace, bringing down a hand to wrap over Remus’ grip.

“I’ll say it as often as you need,” Remus complied with a short breath as Sirius thrust his hips again, fucking Remus’ fist like he had done to his mouth. “I am _explicitly_ yours.”

“Just once more, Remus, _please_ ,” Sirius exhaled, breath unsteady, as the muscles in his throat tightened, the pitch of his voice peaked, the pulse at his throat spiked. Feeling the explicit closeness of Sirius to climax, the anticipatory twitching of Sirius’ thighs underneath him, the throbbing of Sirius’ cock in his fingers, Remus went senseless, ignoring all stops.

“I love you, Sirius,” he breathed out, finding Sirius’ lips with his own and driving his tongue deep into Sirius’ mouth, while Sirius moaned in reply. “ _God_ , I’m so in love with you.”

“Oh, fuck. _Jesus_ , fuck,” Sirius howled, leaning back as soon as his body tensed underneath Remus’ hands, his head falling back against the wall as Remus felt him seize within his fingers. He glanced down between them just in time to watch Sirius spill out warm over their joined hands.

“Jesus Christ,” Remus moaned, the impatient movement of his hips spurred by Sirius’ orgasm, by feeling the slip of the aftermath through his fingers, by feeling the residual jerking of Sirius’ cock against his own as Sirius came down. A heaving sigh pressed from Sirius’ throat.

Still buried in Remus’ hands, still overcome by the weight of his orgasm, Sirius leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Remus’ again as he stalled Remus’ hand. A soft, aching whimper dragged through Remus’ throat as Sirius pulled out from his grip, and he moved Remus’ hand to replace it with his own. As Sirius shifted his wrist, there was a satisfied sigh that echoed out through the dark and Remus couldn’t tell if it was in his voice, or Sirius’, or both.

“ _God_ , _Moony_ ,” Sirius hummed, the pace of his fingers and their grip intensifying around the shaft of Remus’ cock as he pumped harder. But the movement of his hand didn’t match the rhythm of his voice, because it had reduced to barely a whisper. “You’re _in_ _love_ with me.”

“Yes,” Remus said, his voice diminished, lost to breath and hunger. “Desperately.” The motion of his hand remained steady as he pushed a suddenly tender kiss to Remus’ lips. Vaguely, Remus recognized that the song had long since changed to _No Right to Love You_ by Rhys Lewis.

_I have no right to need you when I knew what my heart was gonna lose._

_I have no right to love you. But I do. I still do._   
  


“I can’t understand that,” Sirius said, with awe and wonder in his voice, his lips still moving Remus’ own with every break in his words. “I don’t deserve you, Remus. I never will.”

“Don’t you dar–” His thought was broken as Sirius drove his tongue into Remus’ mouth again, so deep that Remus could feel its influence in his stomach, to his core, down his spine.

“After everything I put you through,” he continued, the steadfast kisses breaking up his quiet words. “You had to _fight_ me to keep me alive. I can never make that up to you.”

“You don’t _have_ to,” Remus tried to say, but Sirius’ hand was still moving against Remus’ skin and Remus was struggling to catch his breath, struggling to hold it down.

“I just wanted it all to _stop_ , I didn’t think about what it would do to you,” Sirius said under a wavering breath. “It was so selfish, Remus, and I’m never going to stop trying to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” Remus interrupted, but Sirius charged forward.

“But because I’m so fucking selfish.” Sirius’ tongue moved indolently within Remus’ mouth, mismatched to the insistence of his hand. “I wanted to keep you anyway.”

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus hissed as he felt the orgasm surging in his gut, crashing in his head, swelling in his chest until he could feel every ridge of Sirius’ fingertips on his wet, aching skin.

“I will always want to keep you, despite everything I’ve so masterfully fucked up.” He held his forehead tight to Remus’ temple, taking in the desperation of Remus’ breath. “So, if my parents want to try to rip you away from me, then they can _try_ ,” he growled through clenched teeth, his lips finding their way to Remus’ ear, the panting of his breath pushing Remus ever closer to a very sharp drop. “They can _try_ to drive you away, but it won’t matter.”

“Yes, _yes_. Don’t stop, Sirius, God, _please_.” His words rambled on without him as Sirius pressed in closer, holding Remus tightly by the back of the neck, his tongue in Remus’ ear.

“Because no matter what they try,” Sirius whispered, biting down softly onto Remus’ earlobe as his grip tightened. “I will love you for the rest of my life, Remus Lupin.”

“Oh _my_ _God_ ,” Remus called out into the darkness of Sirius’ hair, clutching tightly onto Sirius’ ribcage as he came as hard as he ever had, moaning and cursing and aching. The breath in Sirius’ chest billowed out into Remus’ ear as Remus spilled out between them, onto Sirius’ fingers, and his hips, and his belly. “Fuck. _Fuck_ ,” he exhaled, slumping onto Sirius’ shoulder.

As the two of them remained there, slowing their breathing together, Remus found himself inescapably caught in the afterglow of the last few moments. The residual orgasm was still swelling and breaking in his chest, right alongside the awe of Sirius’ revelation.

“Let’s get cleaned up, love,” Sirius spoke into Remus’ ear, placing a gentle kiss against the curve of his jaw. The two separated rather unwillingly and started the awkward shuffle toward the loo, laughing and shushing each other in a feeble effort to not wake Peter on the sofa, despite that Remus had his mobile in his one (clean) hand, music softly drifting through the flat.

They kept the lights off, even behind a closed door, the last light of the full moon enough to illuminate the room. While Sirius picked up a washcloth, Remus opted for turning on a warm shower. A sly smile with a raised brow met him in Sirius’ expression.

“Get in,” Remus said quietly, nodding toward the water, and Sirius obeyed with Remus quick behind him. Under the steam, Remus pulled Sirius close, wrapping his arms around Sirius’ neck and peppering his lips with small, tender kisses. Sirius’ hands slinked up Remus’ back, his fingers trailing the indentations of his spine, his eyes closing in reverence.

“Say it to me again, Remus.” His voice was subdued but clear, letting his jaw slack as Remus deepened the way he kissed him, strengthened the way he held him.

“I love you, I love you. God, I love you,” Remus mumbled onto Sirius’ lips, his hands finding their way into Sirius’ damp hair as he held him by the back of the neck.

“I love you just the same,” Sirius replied softly. Remus kissed him again, as delicately as he was able, settling his lips between Sirius’ and wondering if he could stay there forever.

“Stay with me tonight.” Through his mobile, _First Day of My Life_ by Bright Eyes drifted in, and Remus let himself spend several minutes kissing Sirius tenderly, on the wet of his lips, on the warmth of his face, in the softness of his hair, just listening to the capture of his heart in lyric.

_And so, I'd thought I'd let you know – these things take forever, I especially am slow._

_But I realized that need you and I wondered if I could come home._

“It’s practically morning already,” Sirius laughed, glancing through the shower curtain at the sunlight starting to peek through the blinds of the bathroom window.

“All the more reason for you to stay,” Remus hummed. “Please, Sirius. _Stay_.” 

A kiss in return. “As if I ever wanted to leave.” Unable to help himself, Remus poured himself into that kiss, his hands moving to Sirius’ face, the warm water dripping between their lips with every separation and pouring from their mouths with every push of their tongues.

“Take me back to bed, Padfoot,” Remus purred as he slipped his hand over Sirius’ abdomen, pretending it was to cleanse their shared mess from his skin, which had long since been washed away. With a breathy laugh, Sirius leaned past him and shut the water off.

“Remember that time you tried to tell me you could be celibate?” he grinned widely, handing Remus a towel as they stepped out of the shower in a cloud of steam. 

“That was before we started showering together,” Remus quipped with a smile of his own, loosely holding the towel in front of him as he opened the bathroom door.

“Remus?” From around the corner, Pete appeared, blinking with sleep as Remus clenched his fists around the towel barely keeping him decent. “Is everything alright? I thought I heard you –” He stopped, his eyebrows furrowed at Remus, standing naked in the hall. Until Sirius leaned around the bathroom doorway, obviously just as stark naked as Remus.

“Morning, Pete,” Sirius said cheerfully, a cocky smirk in the corner of his lips.

“Ah,” Pete said knowingly, looking at Remus with a wild, congratulatory expression. “That explains the shouting that woke me earlier. Never knew you were so _loud_ , Moony.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard him before now,” Sirius elaborated, his voice rife with glee as Remus pursed his lips to distract from the violent blushing of his cheeks. “He’s rather vocal in the bedroom.” The heat of that blush immediately spread down his chest.

“Oh my God,” Remus mumbled, burying his face in the hand that wasn’t holding the only thing keeping him from flashing Peter, before carefully wrapping the towel around his waist.

“Or on the roof.” Peter nodded in agreement.

“Or the kitchen,” Sirius added.

“Or in front of your parents,” Peter said with a snap of his fingers.

“ _Alright_ ,” Remus groaned loudly, his head falling forward in defeat.

“See, there it is,” Sirius hummed, slinging the towel around his waist so he could sidle up to Remus, placing his lips against his neck. “Ooh, I love it when he gets flustered.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Peter winked at Remus. “Well done, Moony.” As Peter walked back to his bedroom, Sirius looked up innocently at Remus, going so far as to bat his eyelashes.

“Why didn’t I get a ‘ _well done, Padfoot’_?” he asked, turning his mouth down as Remus wrapped his arm around Sirius’ shoulders, guiding him back to the bedroom. By now, another song by _quickly, quickly_ began, one that he often heard in his head when he thought of Sirius.

_Maybe I’m starting to fall in love with you, and I don’t know if that was part of your plan._

When he looked over to Sirius, he was surprised to see Sirius looking right back at him, in the same way, listening to the same words. With a smile under pink cheeks, Remus let his hand slip away from Sirius’ skin as he stumbled to his bed, delirious and giddy.

“Because you’re prettier than me, Pads,” Remus said, not bothering to get dressed before sliding back into his sheets. “Dating you is my greatest achievement.”

“ _Prettier_ than you?” Sirius balked, and Remus was surprised that he didn’t seem to mind climbing into bed next to him, still completely naked. “Did he _see_ you? Just now?”

“Nothing he hasn’t seen before.” Sirius rose an eyebrow.

“Okay, we’re going to have to circle back to _that_ ,” he narrowed his eyes at Remus as Remus pulled him down to his chest. “Moony, there is not a sight on Earth prettier than you, _naked_.” The breath caught in his throat at the raspy, scandalous way Sirius spoke that word.

“Sirius.”

“No, don’t argue with me on this,” Sirius said, dissention in his voice.

“Sirius.”

“Your thighs, your hips, your scars – Jesus, your _cock_?” Sirius groaned, overwhelmed.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus laughed. Finally, Sirius looked up at him, pupils already wide.

“Yes, Moony?” His voice dipped low.

“Tell me you love me.” At that, Sirius settled, nestling into the crook of Remus’ arm and pressing his cheek close to Remus’ chest with a deep sigh of contentment.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he breathed into Remus’ skin just as Remus let his eyes flutter closed, feeling the weight of stress and anticipation and orgasm pull him deep. The even breathing from Sirius’ lips told him that sleep had come for him, too. Before Remus could fully drift off, he used all the speech left in his lungs to get in the last word.

“You’re still prettier than me.” But Sirius was already asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus' STRESSED AF playlist:  
> [On Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IjE66qKSPw7V8u6ArSmJH)  
> [On YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2V6I2gGTIvOfR2Z4gGcnOQOxnTbaNXKJ)
> 
> The Trapeze Swinger by Iron & Wine is on this playlist, but the version I listened to while writing this chapter is a cover by Gregory Alan Isakov, which you can listen to [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USom8PhOXgs&list=RDUSom8PhOXgs&start_radio=1) (Unless you listen to the YouTube playlist, cause it's already there)


	11. I've Made Them Mine

**_ Sirius _ **

“No, what I _said_ was that it was the worst idea for a Halloween costume I’d ever heard, and we’re not doing it,” James said with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“Oh, come on!” Sirius complained loudly. “This is an _American_ Halloween party we’re talking about! And it’s my birthday! Where is your sense of adventure? Your sense of mystery and –” Lily interrupted his tirade with an erratic wave of her hands and an exasperated huff.

“Did I miss this plan?” she asked.

Remus jumped in. “Group Halloween costume for the party tonight. You and James were going to be murder victims, Sirius was the innocent man framed for your murder, and –”

“And I was supposed to be the _real_ murderer!” Peter groaned, heaving his whole body over, his voice filled with gloom. “I don’t _want_ to be the murderer.”

“Who was I supposed to be in all this?” Remus asked, joining Lily in the indeterminant waving of his hands in the middle of the group they had formed amongst themselves.

“You are obviously my forlorn lover who spends his days writing horribly sappy love letters to me to get me through my lonely nights in prison,” Sirius said, matter-of-fact, watching Remus carefully as Sirius referred to him out loud as his lover. If there _was_ a blush, one so ephemeral that Sirius had missed it, Remus cast it off without a hitch in the conversation.

“How is that, in any way, a costume?” Remus sighed heavily.

“It’s not, because it’s rubbish and we’re not doing it,” James reiterated, just as matter-of-fact as Sirius had been. “Besides, Lily and I already have a costume together.”

“You’re leaving me out?!” Sirius howled, injecting additional whine in his voice to get Remus to look over at him. He was promptly and explicitly ignored.

It had been a few days since that night at Remus’ flat, a few days since his first night with Remus, a few days since he had watched Remus blissfully orgasm all over both their skin. It had also been a few days since Remus had called him a pet name (even his nickname, even the _nickname_ of his nickname), a few days since Remus hadn’t looked away quickly when Sirius looked in his direction, a few days since Remus had last touched him at all.

“A couples costume, how disgusting!” Pete grinned through a falsely cheery voice.

“It’s entirely disgusting,” Lily agreed. James pinched her at the waist.

“You love it, Lil. Sirius, you’ll love it, too,” James said, pointing at Sirius, whose eyes suddenly brightened. He held his own face in his hands as he waited. “Doe and stag.”

“Prongs!” Sirius shouted, his feet actually leaving the floor as he squeezed himself in between James and Lily (to which Lily shared another eye roll with Remus). “Oh, that settles it, we should all dress up as our nicknames.” He felt his smile could’ve put out the fucking sun.

“I don’t want to be a rat, either!” Peter complained, throwing his head back.

“We’ll dress you up as a cute, little mouse – the girls will love it,” Remus said with a wink in Pete’s direction and Pete responded by straightening his shoulders a little, looking pleased.

“What about you, Moons?” Sirius asked him, specifically using his nickname, the nickname of his nickname, to elicit some kind of response out of Remus. _Something_.

Remus glanced over, giving Sirius that tight sort of smile that Sirius hadn’t been on the receiving end of since that first night in James’ backyard. “Wolf, apparently.” His voice matched his forced smile – tight and absent. What had Sirius done wrong? Didn’t Remus _love_ him?

“I have a feeling our costumes will be rather similar, then,” Sirius said, trying to hide his heartbreak with an overly compensating smile, bright in all the wrong places.

“A couples costume, how disgusting,” Remus repeated Pete’s phrasing and, for a moment, Sirius almost missed the mischievous glean in Remus’ eyes, the secret on his lips.

They hadn’t talked about it. Fuck, they’d barely talked at all. A few superficial texts, a few shared moments alone, but not many. Maybe Remus was rethinking his profession of love, maybe it was blurted out prematurely in the heat of the moment. Maybe it was all too soon.

But the way Remus looked at him, just then, made him think it wasn’t premature, it wasn’t too soon, it wasn’t in the heat of the moment. It made him think Remus _loved_ him.

“It’s entirely disgusting,” Sirius parroted Lily, not breaking Remus’ gaze, letting his own go soft and fragile, hoping Remus would never look away. That look fizzled. Remus looked away.

“Alright, lads, we’ve got a lot to do in very little time,” James said with an enthusiastic clap of his hands. “Go get your costumes ready and meet back here in an hour.”

“Break!” Peter laughed as their circle dispersed. Before Sirius could even pull Remus aside, he and Pete were galloping down the stairs. Sirius was left to stare after him.

“My ears are too floppy,” Sirius huffed, swatting at the black, folded dog-ears, banded to the top of his head, just in front of the bun he had tired his hair into.

“You had to get the floppy ones. Remus has pointy ones,” James reasoned, leaning into the mirror in his room, still painting the tip of his nose black and dotting dark freckles onto his cheeks, contrasted to the white that Lily had painted on her cheeks only moments before.

“Has Remus seemed …” Sirius let himself trail off, not wanting to verbalize it.

“Quiet?” James finished for him, glancing over, paintbrush in hand.

“Yeah,” Sirius sighed. “More than usual?”

“I thought it was over the Greyback thing,” James said, wincing slightly.

“Do you think he blames me for that?” Sirius asked suddenly, throwing himself down onto James’ bed. With a breath, James put the brush down, settling next to Sirius.

“Of course not. Why would he?”

“Well, it was _my_ mother that threatened him. Maybe he’s having second thoughts about us. Maybe he thinks I’m more trouble than I’m worth.” Sirius swallowed, hoping he was wrong.

James adjusted his antlers. “You know that’s not true, Pads.”

“Then what is it?” Sirius half-shouted, dissolving into a pathetic whine.

“Well, what else has happened since he went quiet?” Sirius was surprised by the blush that he felt rush into his cheeks, and he lowered his head to try to cover it.

“Oh … we, uh … we had, em … he and I …” Sirius stammered. James’ face lit up.

“Oh my God,” he grinned, with literal doe eyes. “You slept with Moony.”

Sirius pulled his lips into his teeth. “Uh, yeah. We … did do that.”

“Honestly, I thought you had already,” James laughed, eyeing Sirius. “First the roof, then during the party, then all the nights he stayed over, and then the _bath_ ,” he went on and on until Sirius finally threw a pillow at him. He dodged, of course, only to pull Sirius into a hug, and Sirius let himself enjoy the pressure and warmth of James’ embrace. “You should’ve told me.”

“That’s kind of an awkward conversation, isn’t it?” Sirius said with a tilt of his head, still feeling the blush storm away underneath his skin. “ _’How was your day, Pads?’_ Oh, it was brilliant, I went to therapy, I did some painting, I shagged my boyfriend for the first time and then he stopped talking to me. Just brilliant.” Immediately, James’ face fell, his shoulders following.

“Oh,” he said in an outward breath. Sirius nodded.

“Yeah.” They were both quiet for quite some time.

“But that’s not about …” James tried to reason, but he went quiet again.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, tell me everything.”

Sirius smirked. “How detailed are we talking here, Prongs? Because I could go on forever describing what Remus looks like naked or the way it feels when I’ve got his co–”

“Alright, alright!” James interrupted with a laugh. “You know what I mean, you arse.”

The smirk on Sirius’ face faltered. “He told me he’s in love with me.”

“And what does that …” James stopped, restarted. “That’s good, right?”

“I said it back. I told him I would love him all my life.”

“Then what’s –” Sirius interrupted with a sigh.

“I don’t know.” He took an unsteady breath before repeating, “I don’t know.”

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

“No, what I _said_ was that it was the worst idea for a Halloween costume I’d ever heard, and we’re not doing it,” James said emphatically, making sure that Sirius saw the roll of his eyes.

“Oh, come on!” Sirius whined as Remus struggled to stifle the automatic smile that surged up through his teeth. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to smile at Sirius, or text Sirius each time they were apart, or have Sirius in his arms at that very moment. No, the problem was that he wanted all of those things far too much. And he knew how suffocating he could be.

Sirius continued. “This is an American Halloween party we’re talking about!” His voice did that thing where it went squeaky when he got excited. “And it’s my birthday! Where is your sense of adventure? Of mystery?” His tirade was interrupted as Lily let out a short huff.

“Did I miss this plan?” she asked, waving her hands in the center of their circle. For the first time in a while, Remus let himself speak up – he knew he had been quieter than usual.

“Group Halloween costume for the party tonight,” he said, thinking again about the small trinket in his pocket that he intended to give Sirius for his birthday, and wondering again if Sirius was going to like it. Wondering again if this much attention was smothering. “You and James were going to be murder victims, Sirius was the innocent man framed for those murders and –”

Peter jumped in, filling his voice with feign tragedy. “And I was supposed to be the real murderer!” he cried dramatically. “I don’t _want_ to be the murderer.”

“Who was I supposed to be in all this?” he mostly wondered aloud to himself. After all, Sirius had come up with the whole theme. Surely, he hadn’t _purposefully_ left Remus out.

“You,” Sirius said, looking at Remus rather peculiarly, “are obviously my forlorn lover.” His voice went a little unsteady as he called Remus his lover and Remus pretended not to notice, for both their sakes. They hadn’t exactly broadcast that news to everyone yet. “Who spends his days writing horribly sappy love letters to me to get me through my lonely nights in prison.”

“How is that, in any way, a costume?” Remus said with a heavy sigh as he pretended to be exasperated, waiting for Sirius to look over in pretend heartbreak. He didn’t.

“It’s not, because it’s rubbish and we’re not doing it,” James repeated. “Besides, Lily and I already have a costume together.” That time, Sirius did look over in pretend heartbreak.

“You’re leaving me out?!” Sirius called out in a melodramatic howl, and if Remus hadn’t been so steadily studying the floor in an effort not to look up, he might’ve laughed.

“A couples costume! How disgusting!” Pete clapped his hands together sarcastically.

“It’s entirely disgusting,” Lily smirked, while swatting James away from pinching her.

“You love it, Lil. Sirius, you’ll love it, too,” James said, and Sirius immediately slapped his hands over his face in theatrical anticipation as he waited. “Doe and stag.”

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled immediately, bounding over to squeeze in between them, wrapping one arm around each. At this, Remus couldn’t help but smile, but he indulged Lily in a ‘ _where-did-we-find-these-idiots_ ’ eyeroll. “Oh, that settles it, then,” Sirius continued. “We should all dress up as our nicknames.” Jesus, his smile was like sunshine. Brighter than.

“I don’t want to be a rat, either!” Pete continued to pout, head thrown back in a tantrum.

“We’ll dress you up as a cute, little mouse,” Remus placated him with a wink. “The girls will love it.” The smile crept out from Peter’s face as he puffed out his chest a bit.

“What about you, Moons?” Sirius asked and Remus couldn’t help but look up then, as Sirius used his name, his nickname, the nickname of his nickname. How badly he wanted to pull Sirius to his chest, squeeze him until he was dizzy, kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.

And that was the whole fucking problem. He always did this. He’d done it since the beginning with Sirius – he was too close, far too close. They had only been dating for a few weeks, already he’d told Sirius he was in love with him. Sure, Sirius had said it back – but he had _literally_ been in the palm of Sirius’ hand, then. Maybe Sirius knew Remus got off on being in love.

To compensate for his emotion, Remus’ smile went tight. It was a smile that he hadn’t given to Sirius since the first night they met – since Remus had to admit to Sirius that he had touched him without his permission. The expression on Sirius’ face in return was unclear.

“Wolf, apparently,” Remus said, remembering James’ assignment of his spirit animal.

“I have a feeling our costumes will be rather similar, then,” Sirius said under a smile that was just as tight. Was this what it looked like on the receiving end? God, it was painful.

Remus chanced saying something romantic. Because he was in love and he couldn’t fucking help it. “A couples costume. How disgusting,” he said, parroting Pete.

In the last several days, they hadn’t talked about it. Shit, they’d barely _talked_. It was his own fault. He’d been pulling away from Sirius. He rationalized it in his head, telling himself it was for Sirius’ benefit, because he knew how clingy he was becoming.

It was obvious that Sirius agreed with him, because Sirius hadn’t exactly been the most prolific texter over the last several days. They didn’t mention the sex. They didn’t mention the fact that they had confessed their love to one another. They didn’t talk about _anything_.

But when Sirius replied with, “It’s entirely disgusting,” with that look, the soft, endearing look that he only ever put on his face when he knew Remus would be the recipient, that look sent hope into Remus’ heart. Maybe he hadn’t scared Sirius away, after all.

Or maybe he spoke too soon. Because in an instant, it was gone. Though he didn’t look away, Sirius’ eyes went cinder again, the clench that had been dormant in his jaw roaring out with its full strength. Remus couldn’t watch that transition. He had to look away.

“Alright, lads,” James said, clapping his hands like a football coach. “We’ve got a lot to do in very little time. Go get your costumes and meet back here in an hour.”

“Break!” Peter laughed, completing Remus’ imagined football skit as their circle scattered. Before Remus could even turn back to tell Sirius to text him, Peter was pulling him down the stairs. As soon as he looked back, Sirius had already turned to leave.

“My ears are too stiff,” Remus grumbled, trying to soften the grey ears that Pete had settled on top of his head. For a moment, Pete looked away from the mirror in his bedroom, back at Remus, who was lying on Pete’s bed, fidgeting with the tips of his wolf ears.

“Yours have to be pointy so they’re not the same as Sirius’,” Peter said, turning back to the mirror to finish drawing on the delicate, black whiskers across his cheeks.

“Maybe I _want_ them to be the same as Sirius’,” Remus replied under his breath.

“Speaking of Sirius,” Pete shot back immediately, as if he really hadn’t heard Remus’ response. “Is everything okay with you two? You’ve seemed a little …”

“Fuck, I knew I was overcompensating,” Remus groaned, dragging his hands down his face, glad that Pete hadn’t gotten to drawing _his_ whiskers on, yet.

“Overcompensating?” Pete asked, putting down the paintbrush to fully turn. In his eyes was that _look_ , that trademark Peter Pettigrew gaze that made Remus know he couldn’t talk his way out of this one. Peter wasn’t going to be satisfied until he got every ounce of the truth.

“The other night, when you …” Remus made a vague gesture with his hand that roughly translated to ‘ _saw us both naked right after we had sex’_ and Pete nodded.

“When I saw you both naked right after you had sex?” Pete chirped with a Cheshire grin, and if Peter didn’t do that all the time, if he didn’t always read Remus’ mind, Remus probably would’ve missed a beat in the conversation. But that happened at least twice a day.

“Right,” Remus said, a creep of a blush at the base of his throat as he sat up, crossing his legs underneath him. “That night was when I … I told Sirius I love him.”

Pete moved over to the bed. “First time?” Remus nodded. “Is that bad?”

“No, I … I don’t think so?” Remus said, his voice inflecting the question.

“Did Sirius seem …” Pete took a moment to rephrase. “Is Sirius not there yet?”

“No, he said it back to me. Said he’d love me all his life.” When Peter went still, Remus looked up to see a rather inventive look on his face – confused and annoyed all at once.

“I fail to see the problem, Moony,” Pete said, turning the corners of his mouth down.

“Just, I … I’m wondering if it was too much. Too soon,” Remus said, a groan pulling up from the base of his throat. “I’m going to suffocate him, Pete.” Grabbing his paintbrush from the dresser, Pete knelt over where Remus lay sprawled across the mattress, and he began to paint rows of thick, dark whiskers across Remus’ freckled cheeks. Remus tried to stay still.

“If you ask me,” Pete said, his eyes darting back and forth between the work under his hand and the look in Remus’ eyes. “I think Sirius would want to be suffocated.”

Remus let out a heavy breath. “You’re just saying what I want to hear.”

“I’m saying what I see,” Pete argued, painting the entire tip of Remus’ nose black, including his nostrils, and Remus gripped onto the hem of Pete’s shirt to keep from laughing, or sneezing, or anything that could result in a line of black ink across his face. “Let me ask you this, then. If it was the other way round, would you feel like Sirius was suffocating you?”

A grumble pushed up from Remus’ lips, prompting Pete to pull back a little to avoid splattering paint across Remus’ mouth. “I’m so mad at you for making me admit this.”

Pete smiled. “Just go on and admit it, already.”

“I want Sirius to suffocate me.”

“Which is what I said!” Pete said triumphantly, tapping underneath Remus’ chin to make him close his mouth. His paintbrush swept delicately over Remus’ lips as he continued. “You make Sirius out to be this aloof, mysterious creature who doesn’t show emotion, who doesn’t like to admit how he feels and that is such bullshit, Remus.” Remus stifled a smile, but Pete knew him well enough to pull away again to let him speak, though a bit unwillingly.

“I don’t think Sirius is aloof,” he mumbled through twisted lips before straightening them out to let Pete continue his artistry across his face.

“It’s like,” Pete said, taking a moment to think. “When you’re apart, you overanalyze too much. But when you’re together, you don’t let dumb shit like this weigh you down.” As Pete finished painting, Remus sat up, glancing in the mirror at the little fangs Pete had drawn underneath his bottom lip. “Sirius is as wild about you as you are about him.”

Remus sighed. “You’re right. I know.” As Pete grabbed his round, mousey ears from the dresser, he took a moment to whack Remus over the head with them a few times.

“Then get the fuck out of your head!” he yelled, laughing and swatting at Remus. Before Pete could blink, Remus took hold of his wrist and playfully bared his teeth.

“Let’s go,” he grinned as Pete pulled him up from the bed. “There’s a floppy-eared dog out there who I need to snog senseless.” As soon as he spoke, Remus went silent, pulling his lips over his teeth while Pete took the extra step to stick his tongue out in disgust.

“You really could’ve phrased that better.”

Remus laughed as he opened the front door. “Shut the fuck up, Pete.”

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

“Remember, as soon as it’s finished, you have to leave immediately, or face the idea of seeing me full stark naked, because that’s where I’m hoping this will go,” Sirius states bluntly, pointing into the face of Frank Longbottom, who was not looking as put-off by the threat of Sirius’ nakedness quite as much as Sirius was expecting. Frank just nodded and strummed a chord.

“Isn’t it _your_ birthday? Did I get that backward?” Frank asked, plucking out a short little melody, his fingers moving nimbly across the neck of his acoustic guitar.

“It is my birthday,” Sirius nodded, his head tilting to the side. “And what I _want_ for my birthday is for my boyfriend to stop avoiding me, which is why this has to be perfect.” 

Frank grinned wide. “I’ve been practicing this song all day, no worries there.”

“I have full confidence in you, Longbottom,” Sirius said, patting Frank on the cheek, which Frank seemed a bit pleased over. “I just have to figure out how to get him in here.”

“That thing you said about getting naked sounds like a good premise,” Frank replied with snark, throwing a wink in Sirius’ direction as he continued to strum. Sirius let out a short breath.

“You would think so,” he sighed, chewing on his bottom lip.

“You want to talk about it?” Frank asked, looking up from underneath a bowed head, and Sirius was impressed at the flawless way Frank plucked at the strings while looking away.

“If I know Remus, he’s in his own head,” Sirius said with a sigh. “Everything happened all at once and he’s overthinking it. I just have to shut his brain up.”

“With your body,” Frank laughed under his breath at first, developing into a full-chested laugh as Sirius began to laugh with him, one of Sirius’ eyebrows cocked high.

“You’re not wrong,” Sirius smirked. “Remus stops thinking so much when I get him … I’m trying to phrase this delicately for you, Frank … when I get him really fucking horny.”

“Thank you for phrasing that so delicately.”

“You’re quite welcome.” 

“But this song is rather romantic. Not exactly …” Frank took a moment to phrase his thought process in a way that was _actually_ delicate, “arousing.” Sirius just nodded.

“Remus is a hopeless romantic. His heart has to get stimulated before his cock does.”

“Again, so delicate.”

“It’s in my nature.”

With a pause in the movement of his fingers, Frank looked at Sirius a bit more considerately. “You know, I can’t tell if you’re hiding behind the innuendo because you’re genuinely afraid of the romance or if you’re afraid of people knowing you _enjoy_ the romance.”

Sirius groaned. “God, Frank, you need to go to therapy a bit less often.”

A shrug in reply. “You can blame Alice.” He smiled at the thought of her, picking out a bright melody as Sirius let the tension in his shoulders lax with a playful roll of his eyes.

“It’s neither, really.” Sirius flopped back onto his mattress, next to where Frank was sitting, his abrupt motion sending Frank’s fingers to the wrong position for a moment, a sharp twang echoing out from the body of the guitar. “The romance is my favorite part, I’m not good at hiding it. You know – you’ve seen the way I look at Remus when he isn’t paying attention.”

“That’s true. You’re the literal embodiment of the heart-eyes emoji.”

“I just also really, really, _really_ love watching Remus fall apart because of me,” Sirius said with a smile and a sigh of contentment. “And I love being able to say it all out loud, every lewd and obscene thing about Remus that comes to mind. And trust me when I tell you they come to mind _very_ frequently. I just don’t have to hold them back anymore.”

“It was your parents, right?” Frank glanced back with a concerned look in his eye and Sirius responded with an exasperated breath, hands resting over his forehead.

“I mean, most people don’t say the things I say around their parents anyway, right?” Sirius huffed out, recognizing the pressure in his chest as the stress his parents had programmed into him. “But my parents are _especially_ repressed, equally as homophobic. I got in very serious trouble once just for listening to Queen. My mother came into my room and snapped every single one of my records in half.” He took a breath in, feeling that pressure welling up, surging in towering waves in his chest. “Most of what I say out loud is just to spite their repression.”

“Speaking of which, I heard about that dinner,” Frank said, glancing back. The grin on Sirius’ face was so wide, he could feel it stretch the muscles in his unshaven cheeks, and it was mirrored in the amused smile on Frank’s face, as if he fully understood the joy of it all.

“God, you should’ve seen it!” Sirius laughed loudly. “If James’ parents hadn’t been there, I probably would’ve gone into great detail about how badly I want to suck Remus’ cock.”

Frank laughed, entirely unruffled by any of the graphic things falling from Sirius’ lips. “Is that the goal for tonight, then? Seduce Remus through romantic song?” Frank smirked.

“The goal is to get Remus to believe me when I tell him I’m in love with him,” Sirius said with a grunt as he pulled himself off the bed. “Anything that happens after is just a bonus.” He reached out his hand to Frank and pulled him off the mattress, too.

“You picked a good song for it,” Frank said, flicking one of Sirius’ floppy dog ears, while Sirius looked back at Frank with gratitude in his eyes and a peaceful smile on his face.

“You know, I think Alice should let you lead group sometime.” With a sheepish grin on his face, and the hint of a blush on his cheeks, Frank ran his hand through the back of his hair.

“Shut the fuck up, Sirius.”

There had always been a distinctive difference in the scent of Remus’ cigarette smoke, compared to Sirius’ own. Maybe it was the difference in the brand. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Remus’ smoke was always second-hand (except for when Remus blew it down his throat in the middle of a kiss – even then, it tasted different). Maybe it was because it inherently had the taste of Remus’ mouth infused into it – the spice of the chai tea he loved, the sweetness of the milk and sugar he added to it, the bitterness of his favorite dark chocolate.

Whatever it was, it was unique to Remus. So unique that Sirius could recognize that scent nearly instantly, which meant he knew exactly the moment that Remus and Peter arrived back at the Potter’s house because he could _smell_ him. It immediately sent his heart racing, as always.

The moment he looked up, Remus was already searching him out. Sirius took a moment to admire the site of him in costume, the rigid, grey ears atop his auburn curls, the black paint covering the tip of his nose and across his lips, the wisps of whiskers drawn across his cheeks.

But the look on Remus’ face wasn’t what Sirius expected. It wasn’t quite like the tight, tense look it had been earlier in the day, earlier in the week. Now, it was more pained, more broken. Remus looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Something wasn’t right.

Realization settled heavy in Sirius’ gut. Something _wasn’t_ right. And the only thing that had been wrong in the last several days was between the two of them. It could only mean one thing. Remus had changed his mind. He was going to take it back. He was going to tell Sirius that he didn’t love him. He was going to tell Sirius this had all been a mistake. He was going to tell Sirius that he wasn’t worth the risk of having Greyback come back. And he would be right.

Right or not, Sirius couldn’t handle hearing it. He wasn’t ready for this to end. He didn’t know what he would do if it _did_ , didn’t know what he would do without Remus. Before Remus could notice him, Sirius slipped out among the partygoers in their black masks and face paint and fuzzy animal ears toward the stairs, toward James’ bedroom. To hide like a coward.

A while after he reached the balcony, using the cold air to calm the disquiet in his head that was already lamenting a loss he hadn’t yet experienced, his mobile vibrated. He didn’t have to open it to see it was from Remus. After all, Sirius should have bounded up to him already.

**_________________________________________________________**

**Moony: where are you? we need to talk.**

**_________________________________________________________**

Oh, God. This really was it. Nobody says ‘ _we need to talk’_ without it being a break-up. If it was anything else, Remus could text it. If anything else had happened, Remus would’ve told him already. If it was anything else, Sirius wouldn’t feel like throwing himself from the balcony.

Maybe he could convince Remus to stay. He could get Frank to play that song and Sirius would sing it softly into Remus’ ear, just like he planned, and he could tell Remus that he wouldn’t try to change his mind, but he would wait for him as long as it took. Or if Remus wanted to let it go, let them pretend it wasn’t love, let them just have what they have, Sirius would.

As he lit a cigarette under the cold October air, he watched Remus step out onto the front stoop of James’ house to do the same. With one hand reaching for the cigarettes he kept in the back pocket of his faded jeans, he let the other run through his tousled hair, evidently forgetting about the costume ears perched atop his head. He let out a soft curse at the way his fingers caught the ears, mussing his hair, but he didn’t correct them.

When Remus leaned against the railing along the steps, Sirius did the same with the railing of the balcony. Together, they let out a long breath. The grey smoke looked darker than usual, pressing out from Remus’ painted black lips. Absently, Sirius wondered how steadfast that color would hold if he were to spread wet, open-mouthed kisses over Remus’ lips.

Not that he would get to find out. Watching Remus pull deep on the smoke between his lips, he could tell that Remus was abnormally stressed. When he was calm, the puffs on his cigarette were conservative, mechanical. Just a route for nicotine. When he was this anxious, his drags became deep and heavy, with very little clean air between each one.

At the end of the cobblestone, movement attracted Sirius’ attention to the street. There was someone walking up toward James’ house. Likely another party goer, but it was a little strange for this one to be alone. They usually showed up in clusters. There was something off about the way he was moving, something wrong about the way he stole through the dark. For a moment, Sirius’ attention flickered over to Remus to see his posture significantly stiffened.

Just then, a call came from inside the house – Pete, looking for Remus, which sent a brief smile splashing over Sirius’ face. Pete could always tell when Remus needed him. Remus’ attention was diverted, only a split second, and when he turned again (and Sirius followed his line of sight), the stranger walking up the drive was gone.

Sirius shrugged it off – more often than James would admit, guests used his parties as an excuse to hook up with the object of their affection. Sirius himself had done it with Remus, and he’d certainly witnessed other people doing it. Snogging in dark corners, a salacious moan coming from a locked closet, lovers sneaking off to the garden to get lucky. It wasn’t unusual.

Only a moment more, Remus lingered, staring down the cobblestone intently. He stood silent and still, not a puff of smoke from his lips, not the movement of breath in his chest. But Pete called him again, and he shook his head, disappearing back into the Potter’s house.

With a deep breath, Sirius stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray James kept on the balcony railing. This wasn’t fair to Remus. If the decision to break up with Sirius was weighing on him this heavily, it wasn’t fair of Sirius to put it off any longer. He just wanted to stay Remus’ boyfriend for as long as he was allowed, but if this was what Remus wanted, Sirius wouldn’t fight. He would demand an explanation and he would cry his fucking eyes out as he begged Remus to reconsider, as he begged Remus to stay, but he was going to have to accept this. He had fucked up far too hard and far too often to expect Remus to stay long-term.

Just as he turned, he startled at the sight of James, just behind him. At first, Sirius smiled slightly at him, a sad smile with the looming breakup, but a smile, nonetheless. At the look on James’ face, however, the smile quickly faded, replaced with concern.

James was white as a sheet, a sickly tremble in his hands that he held clasped in front of him in some fruitless effort to keep them still. In his wide eyes was uncut terror. He swallowed hard before taking in a breath that was sharp and unsteady and burdened.

“ _James_ ,” Sirius said, taking him by both shoulders, eyebrows furrowed deep. “What happened?” It took several more breaths for James to gather enough air to speak.

“My Dad is good friends with a police officer,” he started to say.

“Yeah, Kingsley, I know. He’s helping us out with the shit on Carlisle,” Sirius said, not even taking a moment to recognize how near bearable it was to speak his name.

“He just responded to a break-in,” James said, pulling his lips into his teeth to cover their quivering. “At Pete and Remus’ flat.” The furrow in Sirius’ brow only deepened with concern.

“What the hell –” James shook his head, so Sirius let him continue.

“Yesterday afternoon,” James stated, his tone low and cautious. “One of the probation officers reported that he missed a scheduled, weekly appointment with Fenrir Greyback.”

At the name of Remus’ abductor, Sirius went stiff, an immediate clench in his jaw, a sudden snarl in his lips. The breath stilled in his chest, though his body screamed for the air.

James went on, his voice wavering. “The officer made a visit to Greyback’s flat and they found several candid photos of Remus, taken through his bedroom window.” Sirius’ stomach turned at the thought of Remus sitting in his window, smoking, the way he always did, not knowing that the man who ruined his life was in the shadows, photographing him.

“He can’t go back there,” Sirius started to say, started to move toward the door, but James caught him by the elbow, leaning in to speak under his breath.

“His address isn’t the only one Greyback has,” James said, an angry, frightened breath seeping through clenched teeth. “Written right next to Remus’ address was yours. And _mine_.” 

Instantly, Sirius’ hand went to James’ shoulder, fingernails buried in fabric and burrowing into skin. It was all that kept him upright. “ _James_ ,” he tried to say, but his voice was suddenly diminished, lost to panic and scraped with dread as he realized why Remus had stiffened so suddenly at the stranger walking toward him in the dark. “I think he’s already here.” 

“Sirius,” James started to say, warning in his voice as his grip tightened around Sirius’ arm. “This isn’t like Carlisle. Look at what he did to Remus. He is _dangerous_ ,” he reasoned, trying to talk Sirius down from his fury. “We’re letting my dad handle this. Do not go looking for him.”

“Does Remus know?” Sirius asked shortly, clenching and unclenching his tightened jaw.

“Pete said he knows about the flat,” James sighed. “But he doesn’t know that Greyback has my address. And we need to keep it that way. I don’t think …” Finally, the grip of James’ hand loosened, allowing Sirius to tear himself away from it, despite how James scrambled to get him back. Cautiously, Sirius put some distance between them, moving toward the door.

“Where is he?” Sirius barked, sending a wince into James’ expression. “Where’s Remus?”

“In the kitchen with Pete,” James said, letting his head fall as Sirius tore blindly from the room, down the stairs, and toward the kitchen, shoving his way through masses of people. At last, he spotted Pete, looking on the verge of sick and scanning the crowd.

His eyes met Sirius’ quickly. “I turned my back for less than a second, Sirius.”

“It’s not your fault, Pete,” Sirius assured him rapidly, his words getting slurred as his level of panic reached a feverish pitch. “Moony!” he shouted, above the music playing through the speakers. “ _Goddammit_ ,” he cursed under his breath before shouting again. “Moony!”

“He stepped outside earlier,” Marlene appeared from behind him, the ease in her voice thickening to worry as she saw the pallor of Sirius’ skin, the sweat rolling down his temples.

“Shit,” Sirius cursed again, pushing and squeezing and bounding through the scattered collections of guests that barred him from the back door. “Remus!”

As he tore open the door to discover Remus was not anywhere in sight, the swell in his gut began to rise into his throat, burning and boiling until there were tears in his eyes. Just as he turned to go back inside, the glinting of yellowed eyes flashed from beyond the side of the house and, without thought, Sirius charged toward the shadow as it evolved into motion.

With a violent pace and the ferocity to match, Sirius razed everything in his way until he felt his hands wrench around the collar of the man in question. One more brutal heave, the man went flying back into the open space of the yard, stumbling down onto the flat of his back.

Immediately, Sirius followed, slamming his knee into the gut of the criminal underneath him and throwing his arm across his throat until he could hear him gasping for air.

One look gave him the answer he had been dreading. He would recognize that monstrous face anywhere – the yellowed eyes and skin from a chronic failing of his liver, the gnarled teeth rotting from his gums, a dead look from dark eyes set into their sunken sockets.

After Remus had spoken his name to Sirius that day, and Sirius had read the terms of his release, he had also memorized his face, studied the picture they took of him the day he was allowed to walk free, just for this moment. So that he would know, without question, when the time came for Sirius to _murder_ this man, that he wasn’t going to get it wrong.

“Where the fuck is he?” Sirius spat down into Greyback’s face. There must be a reason Remus was missing, a reason Sirius couldn’t find him. “What _the fuck_ did you do to him?!” he screamed, his fist trembling as he pressed further and further into Greyback’s windpipe.

A soft gasp drew Sirius’ attention toward the backdoor, where curious partygoers had piled outside to find the source of all the commotion. The gasp had come from Alice, standing at the forefront of the crowd, her eyes wide and a hand covering her mouth.

The crowd separated as Remus pushed his way through to the front. Immediately, Alice grabbed onto his arm in preparation for what he was about to witness. And Sirius had to watch it all cross Remus’ beautiful face. He had to watch Remus’ sun-lightened brow tighten in abject confusion, his honey eyes widen and flood, his slim frame swell with too much breath, all as he struggled to swallow the acrid sick coming up his freckled throat.

“ _Remus_ ,” Sirius breathed out, just grateful that he hadn’t been harmed. But the relief in Sirius’ gaze was not mirrored in Remus’ eyes. His sight was zealously fixated on the man underneath Sirius’ hold. Every step closer furthered the darkening of his gaze.

“Sirius.” Remus spoke his name, but it had never sounded so foreign from Remus’ lips, raw and guttural with the grating of his throat, and so detached and callous that a terrible chill went spiraling down the center of Sirius’ back. “Go inside.” Finally, Remus flicked his hollow gaze over to Sirius. It was blood and chaos and hostility. Insistence stoked his glare. “ _Please_.”

* * *

**_ Remus  _ **

They had barely made it onto the tube before Remus’ mobile began buzzing in his pocket. For a moment, he hoped it was Sirius – they’d barely talked all day. Honestly, they’d barely talked _in_ days, but Remus was mostly to blame for that.

When he looked at the contact, he was surprised to see it was his mother calling. Of course, they texted daily (more when her unwarranted anxiety was running high), but she usually saved the weekly calls for Sunday. With concern in his voice and in his brow, Remus answered.

“Mum, is everything okay?” he asked immediately, knowing something wasn’t right.

“ _Remmy_ ,” she had exhaled into the phone, as if she was under the impression he wasn’t going to answer. There was something in her voice that hadn’t been there since …

“Tell me what happened,” Remus said, not knowing the specifics, but knowing who was likely to be involved. After all, Sirius’ mother had threatened it, and although Sirius had said she was likely bluffing, even then Remus had known. She didn’t seem a woman who bluffed.

Another call tried to break through, but Remus didn’t recognize the number. He ignored it – his mother was the priority at this moment. Something really wrong had happened. But just as soon as the other caller gave up, Pete’s mobile began to buzz. When he held it up, he showed Remus the same number that had just been trying to call him. Pete answered, while Remus went back to his mother, trying not to be distracted by listening in on Pete’s conversation.

“They can’t find him,” his mother said, her voice thick, as if she had been crying. Remus didn’t have to ask, he knew. They couldn’t find Fenrir. He hadn’t been checking in, as ordered.

“It’s alright, Mum,” Remus assured her, despite the immediate surging of his heart rate, the swelling of his breath, the clenching of his jaw. “I haven’t seen him.” 

“There were photos of you in his home. _Recent_ photos,” she sobbed, and Remus gave himself only a moment to close his eyes and breathe. “He knows where you live.”

“Mum, calm down,” Remus said, hiding the wavering of his voice. “I’m not even at home, he’s not going to find me at the friend of a friend’s house.” Even as he spoke, he knew that wasn’t true. Sirius’ mother knew where James lived – it was just as likely that Fenrir did, too.

Just then, Pete grabbed onto Remus’ sleeve, hand trembling violently. “Remus, he broke into our flat.” Pete’s voice was distant, troubled. His blue eyes glazed over as he swallowed.

In perceived defeat, Remus let his head fall forward, a flurry of curls sweeping over vision that had started to blur from the threat of tears that panic had invited. “Mum, we’re going to James Potter’s house,” he spoke over the stifled sobs and stunted breaths of his mother’s voice on the other end of the line. “I will text you every 15 minutes but listen to me. If I know anything, it’s that James …” he trailed off, adding a silent ‘ _and Sirius’_ to himself, “will keep us safe.”

As he closed his eyes, letting his mother come to a point where she could warrant ending the call, he could feel Pete squeezing his shoulder. It was an irrationally calming behavior that was specifically started by James, but they had all started doing it for one another. And Remus couldn’t explain, he could never even try, but that little squeeze gave him more clarity, more confidence, and more comfort than any therapy session he had ever tried. 

When they walked through the front door, he was already scanning the crowd for a pair of dark, floppy ears. No Sirius. When they walked into the sitting room that overlooked the back garden, his eyes went to that white couch. No Sirius. When he closed his eyes and inhaled deep in through his nostrils, he waited for the scent of Sirius’ cigarettes to greet him. No Sirius.

Out of politeness (and obligation), he spent a few minutes greeting everyone and admiring them in their costumes – Alice as Alice in Wonderland (she loved that pun, she reused this costume as often as she was allowed), Frank as the Cheshire Cat (obviously), Marlene as a vampire with Dorcas as her victim. Even Regulus had shown up in costume (Dorian Grey, which Remus thought fit his personality rather well), and he had brought along his (and Sirius’) cousin Andromeda, who was dressed up as a black sheep (Regulus said Sirius would think it hilarious).

Andromeda was more like Sirius than she was Regulus – there was no politician-glaze about her smile, no stiffened delineation to her spine, no emptiness to her eyes, which were a darker gray than the silver of her cousins but just as full of calculation and secrecy. The shadow around her eyes was dark and smoldering, in precise lines, skillfully blended. There was a keenness in her sculpted brow, dramatized by the metal bar punctured through it.

For several minutes, Remus allowed himself to become engrossed in conversation with Andromeda, despite how desperate he was to find Sirius. After all, he knew Sirius was here, they were both safe as long as they were within these walls. So, he let Andromeda talk. They talked about superficial things, at first – Sirius stealing her old leather jacket when he was a teenager, how she gave him secret lessons on how to apply eyeliner, how she always bought him art supplies for his birthday (since she knew his parents never allowed him to buy any).

“I hope he’s still drawing,” she sighed wistfully, as if she could see his sketches in her head. Despite his stress, Remus smiled as he remembered Sirius throwing paint onto a canvas.

“He is,” Remus nodded. “Painting, too.” Her face took on a rather thoughtful expression, her eyes lighting up with excitement as if an ingenious plan had been hatched in her mind.

“How does he feel about tattoos?” she asked, eagerly poised to hear the answer.

Remus paused a beat. “I know he doesn’t have any,” he said, ignoring the insinuating tilt of Andromeda’s head and the sharp rise of her dark, pierced eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“Mad Eye, a friend of mind, he runs a tattoo shop. He might take Sirius on as an apprentice. If Sirius would be interested,” she said, holding out her hands, as if in actual offering.

The smile on Remus’ face widened. “I think he would love the idea.” Without missing a moment, she whipped her mobile out of her jacket pocket and began tapping on the screen.

“I may as well ask Mad Eye about it now,” she shrugged, and Remus laughed.

“If only we could find Sirius, he’d be ecstatic,” Remus said, his smile reducing a bit as the worry began amassing with a vengeance in his gut. He excused himself from the conversation with Andromeda to go and find Sirius – it wasn’t quite enough that James said he’d seen him.

He’d try text first – Sirius rarely went without his mobile, and Remus knew that most of the panic that he felt was over Fenrir, who wouldn’t know Sirius from any other party guest.

**_________________________________________________________**

_Moony_ : where are you? we need to talk.

**_________________________________________________________**

While he waited for a response, he stepped out onto the front stoop for a smoke, smiling slightly to himself as he realized the small mountain of cigarettes he’d smoked that first day that Sirius called him was still sitting beside the steps. How long ago that suddenly felt.

Instinctively, he reached into his back pocket with one hand, the other driving blindly through his hair in some effort to calm his nerves, only realizing he was wearing wolf ears after they were ridiculously askew on his head. He didn’t even bother righting them.

With the cigarette between his lips, he let himself lean against the railing along the stairs that led to the front door. He held the breath longer than he usually would’ve, hoping to suck down every possible milligram of nicotine as he could in a single puff. Almost before he had time to blow it out, he was dragging another in, an effort to silence the tremble in his fingers.

He needed Sirius. He needed to pull him to his chest and breathe him in and stroke his hair and hold on tight. The longer he went without a response from Sirius, the worse his anxiety became. Maybe Fenrir did know Sirius – maybe Sirius’ own parents told Fenrir exactly who to target to destroy Remus. After all, if they got rid of Sirius, the case against Carlisle would be cold.

They wouldn’t. Would they? As cold-hearted as they were, they wouldn’t possibly sick a known child abductor, child _torturer_ after their own son. Would they? Every second he went without Sirius by his side made him doubt his answer all that much more.

Just as Remus began to turn to go back inside, to find Sirius and pull him strongly to his chest, to breathe in his smoke and whiskey, something caught his eye. Someone was walking toward him, up James’ cobblestone walk, and an immediate stiffening rolled down Remus’ spine.

He knew that frame. He knew that posture. He knew that gait. More nights than he’d wanted, he had memorized that gait, the way that body moved, the intent it carried. The smoke stilled in Remus’ chest, he swallowed what was left of it. He didn’t dare blink, didn’t dare to give the shadow a moment of inattention. As sure as he was, he waited. Waited for that body to get close, to move in, to make any indication of maliciousness. He waited to see Fenrir’s face.

But Pete called him from inside the house and Remus panicked. Not only did he not want Peter to see Fenrir, he didn’t want Peter to see what Remus might do to Fenrir. For only a split second, his attention was averted, making sure Peter remained safely inside.

As soon as he turned back, Fenrir was gone, and Remus’ panic intensified. In that instant, he thought maybe he had imagined it. He peered deeply into the dark, looking frantically for those yellow eyes, those sharpened teeth. Once again, the breath in his chest stalled as he concentrated on every flicker of every shadow in every dark corner of James’ front yard.

Pete called his name again and Remus let out the breath he’d been holding. Maybe he _had_ imagined it. After all, how long had it been since Fenrir had taken him? How old would he be now? How old had he been _then_? Remus convinced himself that Fenrir couldn’t possibly move that fast to disappear at the turn of attention. One more drag of smoke and Remus stubbed out his cigarette, tossing the spent filter into the small pile he had left long ago.

“There you are,” Peter said with a sigh of relief as Remus came back in through the cracked front door. He even pulled Remus into his arms, rested his head on Remus’ shoulder.

Remus let out a sarcastic sounding laugh. “Do you really think he could take me?” he said with an arrogantly cocked eyebrow, trying very hard to appear confident on the outside.

“You’re right,” Pete laughed with him. “He’d be worse off than Carlisle.” And Remus nodded, mostly just to assure himself of it. He _had_ done that, and surely Ethan Carlisle was a much bigger man than Fenrir. Right, he reminded himself, Fenrir was practically an old man now.

“I still haven’t seen Sirius,” Remus diverted the conversation, taking a moment to glance over the room, as he was a head taller than everyone in it. Sirius wasn’t among them.

“Come on, James is in the kitchen,” Pete said, tugging at Remus’ sleeve until he gave up the search for Sirius in the crowd. “He knows about the flat. He’s talking to his Dad about it.”

Reluctantly, Remus followed Pete into the kitchen, half-hoping that when they got there, Sirius would be right there with James. When they got the kitchen, however, neither of their friends were there. The kitchen was empty. Not even Mr. Potter was there.

“That’s weird. James told me to find you and meet him in the kitchen,” Pete said, with an air of concern in his voice. Remus could feel the strain of that concern in his gut. Nothing was right with this. He hadn’t seen Sirius all night and now James was missing? They needed to be together after something like this. Remus needed to see Sirius with his own eyes, to hold him under his own hands. This building panic wasn’t going to subside until that happened.

As Pete stepped further into the kitchen, Remus stepped backward out of it without saying another word. His first thought was Sirius’ room, but he walked the perimeter of the room on his way there, inspecting the faces of the guests alongside the walls, hoping for some sight of mercury eyes and floppy dog ears. As he neared the stairs, he was nearly knocked over by some eager partygoer racing past him on their way into the crowd, but he didn’t turn to look.

He took the stairs three at a time, anxious to resolve this worry, anxious to breathe a sigh of relief when he caught sight of Sirius. With his fingers at the knob of Sirius’ door, he could hear someone shouting from downstairs, but couldn’t make out what was said over the music. As he opened the door to Sirius’ room, he was disappointed to find it empty.

Just as he let out of a soft curse, and started to turn toward James’ room, hoping to find Sirius on the balcony, he heard another scream. This one he recognized. This one was Sirius. And he was screaming Remus’ name with terror and fury. Goddammit, something _was_ wrong.

“Sirius!” Remus called back as he dove back down the stairs. By then, the music had stopped, but Remus couldn’t hear him calling for him anymore. “Shit.”

When he finally made it downstairs, he startled at the emptiness of the room that had only just been swarmed with people. He quickly realized that everyone in the room had gathered at the back door, so he pushed his way through. Again, he heard Sirius screaming.

“Where the fuck is he? What the fuck did you do to him?” Sirius’ feral voice cracked and broke with desperation and fear. Panicked, Remus began to tear through the crowd, grabbing people by the backs of their shirts and throwing them out of his way. He heard Alice gasp just as he broke through the crowd to see Sirius kneeling over someone, his chest heaving with rage. 

Before Remus could even force his gaze away from the wrath and fright on Sirius’ expression, he felt Alice’s hand grip tightly onto his arm, just above the elbow. Her fingernails dug so deeply into his jumper that they reached his skin. At first, all he felt was confusion.

Only when his eyes flickered down to the face of the man who had Sirius’ forearm across his throat did Remus begin to understand. He _hadn’t_ imagined it. It _had_ been Fenrir approaching him on the cobblestone. Seeing his face sent an unwarranted breath into his chest, and his head began to swim with too much oxygen all at once. He felt like he had been punched in the gut.

“Remus,” Sirius said, and the terror in his voice melted into relief, and as Remus gazed steadily into Fenrir’s aging face, he could feel an echo of something that reminded him of relief.

After all, this was his nightmare, come to life. This was the thing he had been dreading for weeks, for months, for years of his life. Suddenly and with little warning, here he was, the man who had sunken his teeth into Remus’ skin, dragged the rusty, jagged edge of tools not meant for torture through his blood. He was lying in front of Remus, looking up. And he looked _pathetic_.

This wasn’t the malevolent Fenrir who had taken Remus from his bedroom, with snarling, snapping teeth. It wasn’t the arrogant Fenrir who told Remus that no one would ever find his body, as he carved another eulogy into Remus’ skin. Nevertheless, it was a familiar sight. 

“Sirius.” There was a remnant of callousness in Remus’ tone, but there was nothing but indifference in his heart. “Go inside.” When Sirius didn’t move, Remus cast his stare toward him, knowing that the leftover panic still burned in his gaze. “Please.”

“No,” Sirius replied, firmly and immediately. “No. I won’t.” Just then, Peter, Lily, and James began trying to corral everyone back inside, and their friends began to help, until there was no one left in the garden, save for Sirius and Remus. And Fenrir. 

Briefly, Remus could feel the anger flicker in his gaze. This was supposed to be a party, Sirius’ birthday party. He was supposed to have snogged Sirius within an inch of sense, confessed his love for the second time, and given him the gold charm burning a hole in his pocket.

Instead, he spoke Sirius’ name with urgency and frustration. “ ** _Sirius_** ,” he repeated through a jaw clenched so tight that he thought sound wouldn’t have room to move through.

“No, Remus!” Sirius shouted back, a growl in his throat. “Let me stay. Let me do this so you don’t have to. Let me handle this for you like you handled Ethan for me.”

Remus let his head fall, and breath with it. “Sirius, what do you think I’m going to do?”

“Say the word, Moony, and I just have to press a little bit harder,” Sirius said, through trembling, clenched teeth as he shoved his forearm a little further into Fenrir’s windpipe.

And Remus didn’t want to admit to himself how remarkable it was to hear Fenrir’s breath moving so strenuously out of the narrowed space of his throat. He wanted to pretend it didn’t lend a smile to his face to know that Sirius was the one giving that gift to him.

“Sirius,” Remus said, intentionally softening his voice now. “It’s alright. I’m alright.” The frustrated curl of Sirius’ lips told Remus the intentions of Sirius’ hands even before they drew away from Fenrir’s throat. As Sirius stepped backward, Remus stepped in.

With a tilt of his head, an effort to ease the tension in his neck, Remus spoke to the man who had etched every scar into his skin. “Fenrir.” When the creature with the yellowed eyes and the sharpened teeth looked back, Remus flinched, but not for any of the reasons he used to.

The yellowed eyes were so darkened and clouded that Remus wondered if Fenrir could even still see him. All of the teeth in the front of his mouth – teeth that he had once used to sink into Remus’ skin – had all rotted out. The lips that had sneered at him that first night with hatred and animosity sagged lifeless over leathered skin that did much the same.

“Hullo, little one,” Fenrir said, and the sound of it sent a broken sob into Remus’ throat, but he covered it hastily. “Look at how beautiful my work has made you.” Fenrir spoke again, and this time, Remus could hear the change. The arrogance and anger that had always been in voice was faded, rubbed raw by years of tobacco-drenched breath pulling up from his lungs.

“Oh, yes. Stunning, really. Just ask my boyfriend,” Remus replied, feeling the pressure in his chest dissipating. How often had he woke feverish and breathless from dreaming about this very moment? Now that it was here, it was underwhelming. Fenrir was no longer the terror from Remus’ memory. As he glanced over at where Sirius was still hanging around the back door, waiting ready for some sign that Remus needed him, he saw the change in Sirius’ expression, too. He watched Remus curiously, a near smile on his face.

“I get catcalled on the streets,” he continued, casually running his fingers through his hair, catching again on the wolf ears still buried in his blustery curls. “I really can’t go anywhere.”

As he adjusted the ears, he smirked slightly at this scenario – confronting his worst fear, a man who threatened to turn him into a wild animal, looking like a wolf from a low-budget theatre production. Realizing how laughable he looked, for some reason, surged his confidence. 

There was something that flashed through Fenrir’s expression, and Remus thought it looked a lot like irritation. A sudden realization struck Remus, leaving him with a feeling more victorious than hearing Sirius admit he liked being in Remus’ arms that night. This apathetic affect was the last thing that Fenrir wanted or expected when he had planned this. Surely he had wanted Remus to scream and cry and fight. He wanted Remus to be _terrified_.

“Listen at you,” Fenrir mocked. “So grown up now. Learnt how to talk back.” With that, Remus knew he was right. Fenrir was angry that Remus was no longer afraid of him. But why _would_ Remus be afraid? Fenrir was half his height, half his weight, broken and diseased. If it came down to it, Remus could incapacitate him without even spiking his pulse. 

“Funny, the things you learn when you’re not chained up in a basement,” Remus shrugged. When Fenrir didn’t speak, glaring Remus down with an expression that Remus thought was supposed to be intimidating, Remus spoke again, flippantly. “So. How was prison?"

A stifled laugh burst through Sirius’ lips; an angry snarl reciprocated in Fenrir’s.

Fenrir clawed fervently at the upper hand. “Do you remember how I gave you that scar down your throat?” He pointed to the crescent-shaped scar that started with a point in the center of Remus’ cheek, swept around the curve of his jaw, and circled back underneath it.

“Oh, that one?” Remus said, smiling fondly as he let his fingertips brush delicately over the scar in question, careful not to smudge his face paint. “That’s my favorite one.”

While Fenrir physically startled at the response, Sirius chimed in, catching onto Remus’ strategy. “I thought your favorite one was the one that goes down your thigh.”

“I just like the things you do to that one,” Remus grinned widely, only removing his eyes from the bitterness in Fenrir’s gaze to cast a suggestive glance in Sirius’ direction. “No, _this_ one’s my favorite. That’s where James got my nickname, after all.”

“And how it suits you, Moony, my love,” Sirius crooned. For just a moment, Remus allowed himself to revel in the softness of Sirius’ voice. How he’d missed it these last few days.

“See, these aren’t yours anymore, Fenrir,” Remus said, leaning down into Fenrir’s face, forming an unpleasant snarl at the stench that greeted him. “I’ve made them mine.”

The irritation on Fenrir’s face slipped into a more familiar arrogance that slightly unsettled Remus’ brazen confidence, and Remus clenched his teeth tightly for just a moment to regain his control. “No, my boy. Those scars will always be the work of _my_ hands.”

From the back door, Sirius called, “The work of your hands really likes the work of my tongue.” Instantly, Remus’ face brightened, mostly in the blush that surged through his cheeks.

“Sirius, remind me to high-five you when this is over,” he laughed, glancing over to see Sirius leaning casually on the glass at the back wall of the Potter’s sitting area.

“Oh, I hope you do a _lot_ more than that,” Sirius smirked, eyebrow cocked high.

“Don’t you want to know why I’ve come? I’m not here to try to take you back,” Fenrir taunted, clinging to mystery as his only means of escaping the lesser ranking. For the briefest of moments, Remus felt concern. The terror that Fenrir had planted when Remus was five years old sprouted into that familiar, thorny ivy that often threaded through Remus’ chest.

He quashed it quickly, furrowing his brows dramatically and stroking his chin in a pretentious display of thought. “Is it because you’re pathetically clinging to the past?”

“Oh, how adorable,” Sirius hummed, clasping his hands. “He just had to see you, one last time, in a disgusting attempt to relive what he considers his glory days.”

Remus nodded. “I am his masterpiece, after all.” With an obvious rise in his eyebrow, Sirius let his eyes drag down the entire length of Remus’ body, slowly and with purpose.

“You are your own masterpiece, Remus Lupin,” Sirius breathed out, deliberately soft, as another blush rose from Remus’ throat. “This prick just decorated the outside a bit.”

With a condescending smile in the curve of his lips, Remus leaned down a bit more into Fenrir’s face, wincing slightly as the smell of decay returned. “Did you hear that, Fenrir?” he asked, reveling in the annoyance in Fenrir’s gaze. “My boyfriend thinks they’re _decoration_.”

“Like sprinkles on a birthday cake,” Sirius added with a dreamy, contented sigh. But the arrogance and peace was short-lived. With Remus so close to Fenrir, it gave Fenrir plenty of space to reach out and take Remus firmly by the forearm. Immediately, the careless air of Sirius’ demeanor shifted as he called out, his voice cracking with the sudden strain. “ _Remus_!”

A terrible glint appeared in Fenrir’s darkened eyes as he dug his dirty fingernails into the flesh of Remus’ forearm. The thorns of panic were quick to spring from the soil deep in Remus’ chest and they immediately took root around Remus’ heart, sending his pulse soaring.

“I’m here to get you to kill me, my boy,” he whispered, smiling broadly with all the teeth that should have been in his mouth, but weren’t. And still, Remus was stricken like stone. “It’s only right, after what I done to you,” Fenrir continued, pulling Remus in, closer and closer. “Tell me you don’t think about it. Tell me you don’t remember how I took you from your bed, how I sliced you up and bandaged you every night, only to do it again all over.”

With his hands so close to Fenrir’s throat, Remus had to admit it to himself. He did think about it. Dreamt about it. Fantasized about it. But it wasn’t _this_ Fenrir that he dreamt about – it was the one who had taken him from his bed when he was five years old. And he wasn’t _this_ Remus in those fantasies. No, when he imagined it, he was still chained in the basement. He was still bandaged and bleeding. He was still five years old. He was still screaming.

Killing him now would mean nothing. In fact, it would _take away_ meaning. It would mean that Remus hadn’t grown at all – that he was still that broken, little boy from the basement. It would mean that Fenrir still had hold over his life. And he didn’t. Remus wouldn’t _let_ him.

Still, he let himself enjoy the possibility. He let himself slide his fingers around Fenrir’s throat, feeling the satisfying way they locked into place like they were specifically engineered to strangle the life from the man who had tried to do the same to him.

“ _Remus_!” Sirius called again, the desperation in his voice increased to a whine.

“Complete my masterpiece,” Fenrir squeaked as the pressure of Remus’ fingers increased, as he tensed them just a bit. “Become the monster I have made of you.”

As Fenrir let his eyes close, let his head roll back in victory, Remus let him slip away, and he fell hard to the ground. When he looked up, there was shock and anger and bitterness in his yellowed eyes. Remus returned his expression with an arrogant grin, adjusting his costume ears.

“You didn’t make anything of me, you sorry bastard,” he said, pulling a cigarette from the pack in the back pocket of his trousers, and lighting up. “Everything I am is what I’ve made of myself.” He pulled in a deep drag, speaking through smoke, the fag bobbing up and down between his lips with every uttered word. “I’ve just got a few extra _decorations_ now.” 

With relief in his voice, Sirius jumped in. “And, really, _that_ just made him more attractive to degenerates like myself.” In surprise at the clarity and composure in Sirius’ tone and phrase, Remus looked over to see Sirius wink. “So, cheers, mate, for unlocking that little kink.”

A stifled laugh pressed through Remus’ lips, despite his effort, and the expression on Sirius’ face had returned to the offhand confidence that Remus had been missing.

“My boyfriend rather likes the scars, you see,” Remus hummed through another inhale of his cigarette. “And I rather like the things he does with them. So, thanks, I guess?” By then, Fenrir was seething, the heat of his ragged breath spilling out as mist into the cold October air.

“Looks like I’ll have to force your hand, Remus, my boy,” Fenrir threatened, throwing himself into a wild lunge into Sirius’ direction. With barely a movement, Remus stuck out his foot, catching Fenrir by the ankle and sending him toppling back into the grass.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Remus said quietly, leaving over to blow a purposeful puff of smoke into Fenrir’s face. “I’m going to enjoy watching you go back to prison for violating the terms of your probation.” Without removing the cigarette from his teeth, he grinned wide.

“You don’t deserve this life,” Fenrir said, anger slurring his words until they were spitting out from his empty gums. “You’re just like me, you’re no different. You’re a monster underneath, I just made it so everyone can see!” he screamed, eyes and forehead veins bulging.

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus watched Sirius step in. A smug grin washed over Remus’ face as he took a cool step back from Fenrir, cigarette still hanging effortlessly from his lips, just in time for Sirius to come around and drive his vengeful fist into Fenrir’s jaw. As Fenrir went down, immediate and hard, a heavy breath fell from Sirius’ lips.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled under his breath, his tone wildly different than it had been a moment ago, when he had sounded so haughty as he had taunted Fenrir. For only a moment, Remus watched him underneath raised brows, letting smoke trickle from his lips.

“You alright, love?” Remus asked and a smile crept over Sirius’ face as he looked up.

“I should be the one asking you that,” he grinned. And all it took was the transition of Sirius’ voice to that place where it went low and heavy and concerned, and all the confidence that Remus had been holding in his chest went out with the smoke he blew into the air.

With a struggling breath, Remus’ knees started to buckle, but before he could slip into the wet grass, he could feel Sirius’ arms slip underneath his, holding him up. As he regained his composure, taking another long drag on the cigarette in between his teeth, he spoke.

“Get me the fuck away from him,” Remus begged, with a sad, little laugh. Sirius complied quickly, but turned toward the side of the house, walking away from the backdoor, away from the numerous party guests still trying to get a good look at the commotion outside.

When they got there, this side of the garden dark and empty, Sirius leaned with his back against the side of the house and pulled Remus heavy against him. With a deep breath in, Remus could finally smell more of Sirius and the flowers in the yard than he could Fenrir. So, he took another breath, smelling the honey and coconut of Sirius’ shampoo, the tobacco and menthol of Sirius’ cigarettes, Mrs. Potter’s hydrangeas hiding in the darkness of the garden.

Suddenly, Sirius’ fingers were winding into his hair, his lips pressed firmly to Remus’ temple, again and again and again. He whispered into Remus’ ear, sometime replacing his words with warm kisses that sent unexpected shudders down Remus’ spine.

“It’s over, Moony. God, you were so amazing,” Sirius breathed into his skin. For the first time in days, Remus let himself close his eyes, reveling in the feeling of Sirius’ arms around him, Sirius’ breath rolling down the back of his neck, Sirius’ voice low and soft.

“I don’t feel amazing,” Remus replied with a whimpering laugh, clutching tightly onto the fabric of Sirius’ shirt, breathing him in as deeply as his lungs would allow.

“Are you kidding?” Sirius balked, still peppering Remus with kisses anywhere his lips found themselves. “You looked into the eyes of the man who tortured you, and you _laughed_.”

Finally, Sirius pulled back Remus’ face, holding him on either side of his jaw and letting his thumb dance across Remus’ cheeks, across his freckles, across his scars. His eyes had never before seemed so kinetic, so full of movement, silver enough to rival the starlight for which Sirius had been named. With a smile adorning his lips, he placed those lips to Remus’ own, soft enough that Remus could feel the chilled October breeze passing through their open mouths.

“Sirius,” Remus whispered, letting himself dissolve into Sirius’ touch, into his kiss.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” Sirius continued his praises and his kisses, all over Remus’ face. “And I am so lucky to be in love with you.”

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

_Oh_. This wasn’t … this was … not what Sirius expected.

He expected Remus to want to kill this man with his bare hands. He expected Remus to shed tears. He imagined Remus descending into a frenzy and tearing him apart in ways that Greyback wished he would’ve considered when he’d had Remus in his basement.

When Sirius heard him say, ‘ _I get catcalled in the streets_ ,’ with that impious smirk in the corner of his twitching lips, Sirius found his back straightening, while his eyebrows furrowed. All the nights that Remus had spent shaking and panicking and waking from feverish nightmares, and it boiled to a foam with Remus making smartass comments and looking unbothered.

This power, this _control_ that Remus could turn on and off was fascinating and intoxicating. To witness that change, the instantaneous change from anxious uni student to polished authoritarian, left a wretchedly desperate residue behind in Sirius’ chest.

Because, if he was honest with himself, _this_ was the version of Remus that had him pinned to the bathroom door upstairs, the one who had spoken in a rasping breath, saying ‘ _You tell me to stop, and I’ll stop_ ,’ knowing he had the resolve to turn it off, if Sirius asked of him.

There was something altogether _different_ about this Remus. Something different about the turn of his head, cocked to one side, expressing carelessness and malcontent all in one stance. Something different about the color in his eyes, lighter than it should’ve been when faced with this brand of demon. Something different about his gaze, how he could portray boredom and insincerity instead of the panic and fear that Sirius had expected.

Sirius caught onto the strategy relatively quickly, though he couldn’t quite tell if this arrogance, this sarcasm, this brazenness was fully genuine or if Remus was really good at putting on a show. And, _God_ , what a show, really. What a fucking show.

Because Remus was absolutely dictating this entire interaction. More than once, Greyback tried to drag Remus back down into the darkness where Greyback ruled in terror, like when he asked Remus, _‘Do you remember how I gave you that scar down your throat?_ ’ Realistically, Remus should have reacted _differently_ to that. After all, Sirius would have.

If it had been him, Sirius would have been sent spiraling into repressed memories of being tied down in a damp basement with a man more than triple his age kneeling over him, carving a moon-shaped scar into his face. And screaming and screaming and screaming.

But, not Remus. Remus didn’t even flinch, didn’t even register that the scar on his face even carried that memory. No, instead, Remus smiled. Smirked. Put his hand up to the scar etched into his skin, caressed it with reverence and fondness, and he fucking _smirked_.

Sirius had startled at that. Greyback had done the same. Meanwhile, Remus went on to say it was his favorite one, because of the nickname. The name James had given him, just like James had given to all of them. A name that had made them all a family.

A flurry of derisive quips flew from Remus’ lips and Sirius did his best to keep up, but his sarcasm was a puddle compared to the ocean of Remus’ wit. Though, he did pride himself on being able to tell Remus that his scars were like sprinkles on a birthday cake, which Sirius thought was quite accurate imagery, considering how often he had them against his tongue.

Oh, but when Remus said, ‘ _Everything I am is what I’ve made of myself_ ,’ Jesus Christ, Sirius had never felt anything resonate so deeply in his soul than those words. The same was true for Sirius – Ethan Carlisle didn’t make him _anything_. The trauma that Ethan inflicted on Sirius didn’t make him anything. Everything Sirius was, he had made of himself.

And he would never stop working to build that version of himself. The one worthy of Remus, of James, of Pete, of Lily, of Marlene. The one worthy of love, worthy of devotion, worthy of happiness. The one worthy of _himself_ , the himself that he _chose_ to be.

Maybe he would be that person just to spite Ethan Carlisle, or _in spite of_ Ethan Carlisle, but it would never be because of him. He would be that person because of the love and support of his friends – the friends who were more family to him than his family ever was.

So, when Greyback started spouting off that Remus was no different than him, that Remus didn’t deserve the life he had built for himself _in spite of_ Fenrir Greyback, that Remus was a monster underneath just like him, Sirius couldn’t idly listen anymore.

He stepped in, and Remus stepped back to let him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sirius growled, breath unsettling his words as he laid his fist into the face of the nightmare that terrorized the one Sirius loved. As he looked to Remus, face filled with concern, he was surprised to find a smirk on Remus’ lips, his eyebrows risen high on his face.

“You alright, love?” he asked, and Sirius smiled in return.

“I should be the one asking you that,” he said, unable to keep the softness and worry from the tone of his voice. Just as Remus exhaled a puff of smoke, his legs began to tremble, and he reached out for Sirius. Sirius was underneath him before he could hit the ground.

“Get me the fuck away from him,” he laughed, though his voice was quivering. At first, Sirius looked back to the door and, while he saw James and Pete and Lily and Alice looking on with some disconcerting mixture of elation and terror on their faces, he could also see the massive amounts of people behind them, trying to see past the barricade they’d created.

To avoid that, Sirius guided Remus to the side of the house, dark and void of onlookers, falling against the furthest wall and pulling Remus to his chest. There was a soft hiss of the extinguished embers of Remus’ forgotten cigarette in the wet grass as Remus’ hands felt their way around Sirius’ hips. Sirius could feel him breathing him in, so he did the same.

He wound his fingers into Remus’ hair and pressed his lips into the border of Remus’ hair, where he could feel Remus’ lips against his skin and still draw in the scent of Remus’ hair. It still smelled like that cocoa butter shampoo he had stolen from Pete the night he had tried to scrub the scent of Carlisle’s cologne out of his skin. The skin under Sirius’ lips was flushed.

“It’s over, Moony,” Sirius whispered as Remus held him tighter. “God, you were so amazing.” He thought back to Remus’ proclamation of how he made those scars his own.

“I don’t feel amazing,” Remus mumbled into Sirius’ chest, pressing in as far as he could.

“Are you kidding?” Sirius said, his voice spiking a pitch, as he increased the flurry of his kisses to Remus’ skin. “You looked into the eyes of the man who tortured you, and you _laughed_.”

To validate his argument, to prove the awe that he held toward Remus Lupin, Sirius pulled him back to hold him by the face, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Despite the concerning darkness that had taken over his amber eyes, they still stirred as the light crept back in, their color a shifting flurry of honey and resin. Softly, with dedicated movement, Sirius tilted his head forward so that he could rest his lips against Remus’, holding silent and still.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus said in a sigh that unsettled Sirius’ lips.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met,” Sirius confessed, as his lips moved to continue their show of devotion across Remus’ face. “And I am so lucky to be in love with you.”

Just then, James appeared from the corner of the house, his movements sharp and hurried. When he laid eyes on the entwined pair, his shoulders slumped as the tension released.

“There you are,” he said with an overwhelming sigh. “Thank God.” His feet barely touched the ground as he raced over to the two of them, wrapping his arms around them both.

“We’re okay, James,” Remus said, though his lips were squashed against Sirius’ face. “I’m sorry I ruined your party. Again.” Sirius smiled at the sound of Remus allowing himself to laugh.

“It was Sirius’ party,” James said, pulling back so that he could shrug, unruffled.

“Speaking of which,” Remus huffed as he tried to disentangle himself from the mass of limbs they had created. He fished into his pocket. “Happy birthday, Padfoot.” Dangling from Remus’ fingers was a gold charm – a crescent moon. “I thought you could braid it into your hair.”

The smile that swept over Sirius’ face stretched his cheeks in ways he hadn’t felt in days and he watched it echo out across Remus’ lips. There was no sight that could ever rival this. Not watching Remus push his fingers through his golden curls, not seeing the arrogant smirk on Remus’ face as he taunted his abuser, not even the untamed look in Remus’ eyes when he had Sirius underneath him. This unbridled smile won over them all.

“Maybe we could take in a show and you can braid it for me,” Sirius smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he watched Remus’ expression change to something that lied between amusement and confusion. James’ expression looked much the same. “Come on.”

As Sirius pulled them both by the wrist, returning to the garden, he was surprised to see Pete there, sitting pleasantly on the chest of Fenrir Greyback, who was still out cold. Lily and Alice stood off to the side, though Alice occasionally kicked at Greyback’s fingers.

“Alright there, Wormtail?” James called. Pete nodded with a grin.

“We sent everyone home,” he said calmly, as if he wasn’t seated atop a known felon.

“And we called the police,” Lily stated, glancing with disgust at Greyback.

“Perfect,” Sirius said, letting go of James and pulling Remus over to one of Mrs. Potter’s wicker chairs. With his hands atop Remus’ shoulders, he coaxed Remus to sit, settling onto the concrete below and nestling between Remus’ legs once Remus was seated. “Remus, love, if you don’t mind.” With a flick of his wrist, he handed the gold charm back to Remus.

Remus laughed, fingering through Sirius’ tangled hair. “For you, darling. Anything.” As the work of Remus’ fingers drove deeper into Sirius’ hair, Sirius let his head fall against Remus’ thigh.

As Remus tied the golden crescent moon into the braid he had woven through Sirius’ hair, red and blue lights lit up the front of the house. Armed officers stormed into the garden, at the direction of Lily. The men, led by their friend Kingsley, halted rather quickly as they saw the unexpectedly placid scene. As his eyes met Sirius’, Kingsley cocked his head, brow furrowed.

With his fingers still in Sirius’ hair, Remus didn’t even bother to look up as he addressed the situation. “Hi, Kingsley. You remember me, I’m Remus Lupin. And unless I am mistaken, I don’t believe the man on the ground is allowed to be within 50 meters of me, according to the terms of his probation. It’s rather lucky that he’s still alive, if I’m being perfectly frank.”

As Pete stood from his place seated on Greyback’s chest, the officers quickly moved in to restrain him, despite that he was barely regaining consciousness. As they dragged him from the yard, Sirius heard Kingsley mutter, “The boy’s a better man than me. I’d’ve killed him dead.”

“Oh, trust me,” Remus said with an arrogant grin, still not looking up as he tucked Sirius’ hair behind his ears. “I did much worse than kill him. I made him irrelevant.”

Sirius leaped back to kiss Remus so hard, they toppled over backward in the chair. 


	12. What It Is to Be Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S OVER, I'M CRYING, SOMEONE HELP

**_ Remus _ **

It was Sirius’ birthday. Pete had gone over to James’ for the afternoon, because it had been far too long since Sirius and Remus were allowed to be alone together. A lot of that stemmed from James and Pete worrying about Remus, after the situation with Fenrir. There were a lot of conversations about Remus and Pete moving out of their flat, but Remus refused, despite the arguments it incited. All Remus wanted was to get back to normal, forget about Fenrir, and snog his boyfriend in bloody peace without a thousand people checking in on him.

Except Sirius was supposed to be at Remus’ flat an hour ago, and he still hadn’t arrived. Remus had texted him a couple times, but no response. The panicky part of Remus’ chest crested, and he had to remind himself not to let it get out of control. He would call Sirius, and Sirius would answer, because everything was fine, and nothing was happening.

Except Sirius didn’t answer. And he didn’t answer a second time. That panicked crest in Remus’ chest started to surge until he could feel it in his throat. He tried to rationalize it – he could call James, maybe Sirius was still at home. Maybe he had just left his mobile at home.

Just as Remus pulled up James’ contact, there was a scattering of light taps at his window and an instant smile on Remus’ face as he went over to investigate. Under the window that Remus always smoked from, Sirius stood in a position that told Remus he had another handful of pebbles that he fully intended to throw at Remus’ window again, if there was no answer.

When Sirius caught sight of him, he stopped, the stones lazily falling from his fingers. In his eyes was something that Remus had seen there before, but not of this depth. They were the same silver eyes, as molten and mobile as they had ever been, casting the sentiments of their host as plainly as they always did. But, today, the warmth within them was palpable, tactile. Like a thing that hung in the air between Sirius’ gaze and his own that he could reach out and take.

The gilded crescent moon charm that Remus had amateurishly woven into Sirius’ long, dark hair still hung just behind his right ear, looking much like an earring from this distance. It made Sirius look a bit other-worldly, a divine being with celestial bodies tangled in hair as dark as the voice of space shrouded over skin that had borrowed its translucence from the stars.

As Remus opened the window, he was greeted by a soft, familiar melody. When his eyes found the source of the sound, he was surprised to see Frank Longbottom, expertly plucking the strings of a guitar with a curious smile. Remus knelt in front of the window, cupping his face in one hand, propped up by his elbow resting in the window frame. And he smiled at Sirius.

“What are you doing?” he laughed. “It’s _your_ birthday. I should be serenading _you_.”

“Shh, Moony,” Sirius said, holding his finger over his lips. “Just let it happen.”

Remus laughed again, a little louder. “Then get on it with it, you numpty.” Sirius wrinkled his nose at him, but the smile remained on his face. He made a show of clearing his throat, and Remus leaned forward, afraid he wouldn’t be able to hear Sirius’ voice from this distance.

“Wherever you are,” Sirius began, his eyes closed, his voice low and reverent. “Know that I adore you. No matter how far, well, I can go before you.” With a delicate sigh, Remus crossed his arms over the edge of the window, resting his head on his wrist as he watched the love of his life sing to him. For only a moment, Sirius opened his eyes and they found Remus’ immediately.

But he closed them again, as he continued, holding his hand to his chest, “And if ever you need someone, well, not that you need helping.” His honeyed voice drifted across the distance, echoed over the pavement, and burrowed deep into Remus’ chest where it settled, whist and warm, despite the turbulent fluttering it left behind in Remus’ heart.

“But if ever you _want_ someone, know that I am willing,” Sirius sang, his voice flowing effortlessly from airy and delicate to heavy and somber with seamless transition. And when he sang, “Oh, cause I don’t want to change you, I don’t want to change you, I don’t want to change your mind,” he opened those lustrous silver eyes, and he smiled at the sight of Remus’ unwavering gaze, solely devoted to him. “I just came across a manger, out among the danger, somewhere in a stranger’s eyes.” With Sirius’ voice in his head, Remus’ thoughts drifted.

His mind went back to the first night they met, when Sirius was all dark circles and cigarette smoke. Remus could still feel the protruding bones of Sirius’ chest underneath his fingertips, as he had begged this stranger in black to _breathe, just breathe_. If only he had known then that, in less than a month, he would’ve been begging that stranger to breathe again, as he was knelt over him, trying to force air into his cold, empty lungs, tears spilling over his cheeks.

When his full attention returned and his eyes focused on the Sirius that was still here, still with him, he couldn’t help the tears that spilled over his cheeks again. While he was quick to brush them away, it didn’t escape Sirius’ attention. He immediately stopped singing.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Moony,” Sirius whined, his voice tweaked with concern. “This was supposed to make you happy!” With a laugh, Remus rubbed the back of his hand over his face.

“I _am_ happy. Happier than I have ever been in all my life,” he said with a contented sigh, while Sirius looked mildly confused. “Just get up here and hold me, already.”

A little jump in Sirius’ step propelled him forward, like his body reacted to the statement before his brain could catch on. “Gladly,” he grinned. “Longbottom, I love you, but beat it.”

“Gladly,” Frank parroted with a laugh, throwing a wink and a wave in Remus’ direction, as Sirius disappeared underneath the overhang of the building, in the direction of the stairs. As Remus went to the door, the pace of his feet moving to match the pace of his heart, he could practically hear Sirius scrambling up the stairs from beyond the wall.

The moment Remus pulled the door open, Sirius fell forward, as if he intended to lean against the door with his full weight. And Remus _just_ managed to catch him.

“Hi,” Sirius said with an innocent smile, peering up from his place in Remus’ arms, letting his knees breech the minimal distance down to the welcome mat.

“Hi,” Remus replied, craning his neck down to press a delicate kiss to Sirius’ lips.

“You weren’t meant to cry,” Sirius repeated as he pulled himself up, rearranging their positions so that Remus’ chin cradled over Sirius’ shoulder, their cheeks pressed together.

“It was a happy cry, Pads,” Remus laughed, nuzzling his face against the ever-growing stubble on Sirius’ cheek. “Happy that you still have breath in your lungs to sing to me.”

Sirius took in a clipped breath and held it, as if a torrent of words were anchored on his tongue and he couldn’t decide which ones he should untether. “Then I will sing to you every day for the rest of my life to make up for the time that there wasn’t.”

Again, tears stung at the border of Remus’ eyes and the dark void of Sirius’ hair seemed to sweep them in and devour them, to keep them from washing over Remus’ cheeks.

“You know, you weren’t this poetic when I first met you,” Remus laughed, burying his face deeper into the nape of Sirius’ neck, moving his lips across the warmth of Sirius’ skin.

“How could I have been poetic if I hadn’t met my muse yet?” Sirius purred smoothly and Remus couldn’t help the tightening of his fingers around Sirius’ waist.

“Now you’re just getting cocky,” Remus quipped back, pulling away so he could see the shimmering of Sirius’ eyes when he and Remus got into this rhythm of banter, so he could see the preparatory way Sirius wet his lips when Remus said anything with even mild innuendo.

“You said that on purpose to get an _unpoetic_ response,” Sirius replied calmly, though Remus could see the increased thrumming of his pulse in the vein of his throat. “I’m trying very hard to be romantic, Moony.” The way his eyes scattered across Remus’ face told Remus that Sirius was hoping very much that Remus would continue to argue that point.

And he would, of course. But not before he trailed a single finger along the curves of Sirius’ throat, coaxing his head back, his eyes to the ceiling, of which Sirius was quick to obey.

“I don’t see why you can’t continue to be romantic,” Remus began to say, pausing only to deliver a few well-placed kisses underneath Sirius’ chin, across his Adam’s apple, along his collarbone, as his fingers wound tightly into Sirius’ hair, “with my face between your legs.”

A wet breath pressed from Sirius’ throat, vibrating Remus’ lips as they continued to slip into places that Sirius had apparently not anticipated. “Oh. That’s … _yes_ , Moony, I could do that.”

“You should sing to me again, that was very romantic,” Remus teased, hooking his forefinger into the collar of Sirius’ black shirt and making space for his lips to move in. Sirius pulled Remus’ hips close and began walking him to the bedroom, each step together.

“I’m feeling very patronized just now, Moony.” Sirius twisted his lips into a playful pout. At the door, Sirius stopped their movement and his laughter, just to press Remus deeply into the frame of the door, hips first, for a moment of unhindered exploration of body and mouth.

“I’m just imagining you practicing that song with Frank and it’s quite adorable,” Remus snickered into Sirius’ hair just seconds before a sharp exhale slipped through his teeth.

“Cheers, I’m never singing for you again,” Sirius mumbled, his lips still pressed to Remus’ neck. In response, Remus twisted Sirius around and pressed him tight to the wall. A groan pushed from Sirius’ lungs, unguarded and heavy, as he let his head fall back, dark hair fanning out as a striking contrast against the bland, beige wall behind him.

“Please sing to me, Sirius.” Remus dropped his voice low, a deep, whining pitch that he knew sent shudders into Sirius’ spine. He felt it happen now, just under his fingertips.

“Make me,” Sirius taunted, mirroring the depth of his voice to the octave where Remus’ voice had just dropped. That shudder went down Remus’ spine just the same, and he couldn’t keep up the pretense of power anymore. Not with Sirius before him, looking the way he did.

“Dammit, Sirius.” With a defeated sigh that held the depth of a growl, Remus gripped Sirius’ chin in his fingers, turning his head to the side so his mouth was able to travel across the elongated expanse of Sirius’ throat, the charm in Sirius’ hair sliding along the bridge of his nose.

But Sirius remained silent, even when Remus paused to draw his tongue all the way up Sirius’ neck, ending by slipping Sirius’ earlobe in between his teeth and leaving Sirius to suck in an indiscreet breath, tensing the muscles of his already tightened throat. A slight whimper was all Remus was rewarded. Remus knew what he needed to do to make Sirius sing.

Without pretext, he dropped to his knees in a single, fluid motion that left Sirius taking in an overly shorn breath. The fastenings of Sirius’ trousers were undone with ease, with no hurry on the part of Remus’ fingers, despite the insistent tone of Sirius’ hollow breath and the way his slender fingers gripped frenetically into Remus’ curls.

Only a moment did Remus take to run his palm along the already straining imprint of Sirius from beyond the fabric that kept him concealed. It was worth that moment just to hear the impatient panting of Sirius’ breath, but he kept the song from his throat. He kept all semblances of word and melody deep in his chest, surely as a challenge to Remus.

Once Sirius was completely exposed, Remus allowed himself a moment more of pure admiration. He leaned back on his heels, flicking his gaze up toward Sirius’ face. The heave of Sirius’ chest was deeper from this view, the dilation of his pupils wider from a distance. As he brushed his deft fingers along Sirius’ length, Sirius’ chest expanded fully with breath, the sound of it rushing through the anticipating clench of his jaw was like the whistle of a songbird. All that was left was for Remus to take Sirius into his throat, and he did so with a satisfied hum.

And Sirius began to _sing_ , as Remus made sure he would. But it wasn’t a song like the one he had sung to Remus from beneath his window. It was a wordless hymn, a symphony of breath, with a rhythm timed precisely to the calculated stroke of Remus’ tongue. The explicit sounds from Remus’ own throat, muffled by Sirius buried within it, harmonized with every moan ripped from Sirius’ chest, every howl coaxed into fruition by the work of Remus’ mouth, every whining curse that poured endlessly and senselessly through Sirius’ lips.

The song lived short in Sirius’ throat. While Remus longed to hear more of the sweeping chorus in Sirius’ hallowed breath as he called out Remus’ name, something quite treacherous bloomed in Remus’ chest at the way Sirius’ voice went quiet at the border of climax. No longer did he sing out Remus’ name to the ceiling – instead, he whispered Remus’ name into the vapor of his breath like a secret, like a prayer, like a confession. Sacred and ancient and desperate.

The remnants of that prayer ravaged Remus like a plague – the breath in his chest felt stagnate, the blood in his veins felt thin, the muscles in his thighs felt tight enough to burst, the salivation in his mouth felt like it meant to drown him. And still, he pulled Sirius deeper.

He swallowed and hummed and devoured Sirius, reflexive tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, until he could feel Sirius swell and peak between his teeth, until he could feel the residue of Sirius’ orgasm draining down the back of his throat. Even still, he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, until Sirius held him by the chin, slipping himself out from Remus’ mouth with a groan.

“Moony,” Sirius sang, voice returned, as he slumped down the wall right into Remus’ lap, which was throbbing and rigid from the thrill of bringing Sirius to ecstasy. “ _Moony_ ,” he repeated, a little more sternly, a little more urgently, a little more deviously as his fingers swept over Remus’ taut zipper, leaving a drastic twitch in Remus’ hips, a stimulated whimper on his tongue.

With _delicate_ fingertips pressed to Remus’ chest, Sirius guided Remus to lie back on the floor. With _trained_ fingertips tugging at Remus’ zipper, Sirius let his silver eyes widen without disguise at the sight of Remus, unhinged and wanting. With _trembling_ fingertips, Sirius delivered the lightest of strokes down the full length of Remus, watching the fevered way Remus reacted. 

All Sirius had to do was touch him. And then, Remus was the one singing.

* * *

**_ Sirius  _ **

When he walked into the shop, he was breathing smoke – a little from the cigarette still between his lips and a little from the vapor produced by the heat of his breath. Snow flurried in behind him, settling on the shoulders of the faux-fur-lined leather jacket that Remus had given him as a Christmas present, far too early. He was too excited to wait, he’d said with a grin. 

It had been almost two months since that encounter with Fenrir. Two months since Andromeda had gotten him a job as an apprentice at Mad-Eye Moody’s tattoo shop. Two months since he’d first told Remus that he loved him, and he’d said it every day since. Two months since Remus had saved his life. Two months he’d spent trying to repay that debt.

Remus constantly reminded him that there was no debt. Whether there was or wasn’t really didn’t matter. All he did to repay it was love Remus with his whole life, and he would’ve done that anyway. Still, he pushed these payments as strongly as he could, just to reinforce his point. He would leave love notes in every secret place he could – Remus’ satchel, the sleeves of his jumpers, in the soles of his shoes, the pockets of his trousers. Anywhere that Remus might find it when he was suspecting it the least. Once, he left a tiny note pinned in Remus’ hair while he was sleeping. It took him much longer to find that one than Sirius would’ve thought.

Sirius still lived with James, though he spent many nights sleeping over at Remus’ flat (on those nights, Pete would go and stay in his room at the Potter’s house). Euphemia still served him cottage pie when she could tell Sirius had a bad day. He still painted in the garden, though sometimes he would paint in his room, or James’ room, or on the balcony, or on the roof.

He sketched, too. Mostly he sketched while he was at work at the shop, watching Mad-Eye drill ink into someone’s skin in a design that Sirius couldn’t have imagined. On those designs, he took note – which style of art Mad-Eye chose for which pieces, the different degrees of weight in the different outlines, how to use solid pigments to form a seamless gradient of color.

Several of those designs that Sirius had watched with rapt attention had been on his own skin. The first one, the phases of the moon around his forearm, he’d gotten with Remus tightly holding his hand and whispering delicately into his ear. But the pain hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected. In fact, it was almost placating, in some ways. Many more followed the first, but they followed the same pattern – permanent reminders of the ones he loved.

There were a few sigils that Andromeda had designed for him in random places on his skin, on his thigh, on his calf, on his wrist. The red healing sigil above Sirius’ hipbone was Remus’ favorite, though it might’ve had just a bit to do with the placement. On his right shoulder was a pastel watercolor arrangement of the variety of flowers and ivy from Euphie’s garden, and on his ribs, the Leo constellation with the outline of a little orange lion’s mane around the star of Regulus. His last piece, a gray mouse curled up asleep amid a crown of antlers, a loose wreath of white lilies wound within their tines, resided on the left side of his chest.

Andromeda had even put a few holes in his skin, working as the shop piercer. Some in his ears (industrial through the left cartilage, a silver ring in each earlobe) and a small, gold hoop through the septum of his nose. Remus had especially taken a liking to that last one.

“Oi, put that out or stay outside!” Mad-Eye barked from the front desk and Sirius winced, placing his hands up in the air. Quickly, he kicked open the front door and flicked his cigarette outside, hearing a soft hiss as the embers were extinguished in a nearby mound of snow.

“Sorry, Mad-Eye!” he said with a smile as Mad-Eye grimaced in the way that Sirius had come to recognize as a mild sort of fondness. Or, at least, pleasant tolerance.

“And tell your friends they don’t live here!” he shouted as he strode into the office in the back of the shop. “At least one of them paid for something this time,” he grumbled to himself just before he slammed the office door behind him, but Sirius saw the gleam in his eye.

“I’m beginning to get the feeling he doesn’t like us,” Remus called from the sofa that sat in the corner of the shop where Mad-Eye’s appointments waited on him.

“Moony!” Sirius cried out, throwing his arms dramatically into the air as he rushed over, seeing James and Pete sitting on the loveseat across from Remus. Usually, Sirius would barrel into Remus without even slowing his pace, face first, colliding with a torrential kiss. This time, however, the glimmer of metal from Remus’ face stopped Sirius short. Around the flare of Remus’ left nostril was a thin, black ring. Underneath that, a sly grin. “ _Moony_.”

“Does that mean you like it?” Remus asked, one corner of his mouth twisted up.

“ _Like_ it?” Sirius exhaled heavily as he immediately straddled Remus’ hips on the couch and slid his fingers around Remus’ ears, craning his neck down to meet Remus’ lips, to slide his tongue between them. “You have no idea how much I like it, Moony. _Jesus_.”

Between kisses, Remus spoke, smiling, “I think I’ve got a bit of an idea.”

“Let’s get rid of James and Pete so I can suck you off right here.”

Remus hummed deeply. “You blew me just this morning. You’re spoiling me, Padfoot.”

“You know we can hear you, right?” Pete snickered as James playfully groaned. Their complaints were, for the moment, entirely ignored, but they were as patient as always.

“I’d like to try for a new record,” Sirius breathed into Remus’ mouth before pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, still red and tender from the needle that had been poked through it.

“Last I checked, your record was six times. You’ve got a lot of daylight to make up,” Remus teased, and Sirius could feel the indentations of Remus’ insistent grip on his thighs.

“I thought my record was eight,” Sirius corrected. Another hum from Remus’ lips.

“ _My_ record is eight, _your_ record is six,” Remus smirked, rather triumphantly.

“I guess I’d better get to work, then.” With their lips still joined, two very loudly cleared throats drew their attention away from the _work_ they were eagerly attempting to plan.

“Are you going to tell us how it went?” James asked with an amused grin, so well versed in Sirius’ usual over-abundant displays of amorism that he didn’t even expect him to uncurl himself from Remus’ lap. “Or do you need to pull Moony into the back for a minute first?”

“Is that an option?” Remus wondered aloud with a cocky grin. Sirius flashed up his eyebrows as he worked at removing his jacket while twisting himself to face James and Pete, not moving from his place in Remus’ lap. Luckily, Remus gave him an extra hand.

“It wasn’t as bad as I expected,” Sirius said with an honest, soft sigh as he settled back down into the warmth of Remus’ arms. A flurry of delicate kisses swept over the back of his neck.

“Do we get any more details than that or should I separate the two of you first?” Pete asked with a sarcastic grin, to which Sirius playfully replied by displaying his middle finger, a black band of sigil runes tattooed around the first knuckle (that he’d gotten for just this effect).

“Carlisle wasn’t there,” Sirius said with a clench of his jaw, still training himself to distance that name, so he didn’t feel the sharp drop into the pit of his stomach every time he was forced to say it. Which was a lot, now that legal proceedings had begun against him.

It was all because of Regulus. He was the one who had found all the other boys who had been abused by Carlisle, some of which had been underage at the time. Not only would there be a criminal case brought against him, there were multiple civil cases being brought forth by the wealthy parents of those he violated. Sirius’ lawyer told him that, while it was going to take time, it was inevitable that Carlisle would get the maximum sentence. There was far too much evidence against him, far too many victims, far too many witnesses. He would _rot_ in prison.

Even the prestigious university was under legal scrutiny. That day, Sirius met the other boys for the first time. They were all gathered, with their respective lawyers and parents and siblings (because, of course, Sirius’ parents were on the side of the defense, so Regulus had accompanied him), so the university could discuss financial settlements with them.

The university had offered the boys money and scholarships and careers in exchange for their silence and cooperation. They had all, every single one of them, turned the offers down. As Regulus had put it, over a stern glare, ‘ _It was your burden to protect them. And you failed._ ’

As expected, the university had already distanced themselves from Carlisle. He had been stripped of his authority, of his position, of his tenure. And, of course, they had offered Sirius his spot back, just where he had left off, starting next term. With triumph, Sirius had declined.

“So, I _could’ve_ gone, then,” Remus sighed, his fingers tensing at Sirius’ waist as Sirius lounged out onto the full-length of the sofa, with his head in Remus’ lap.

“You heard what Lovegood said,” Sirius said of the lawyer than James’ parents had hired to represent him. “You’re a hero, Moony. Before the meeting, everyone kept asking me if I’d brought you so they could shake your hand.” He placed his hand over Remus’ fingers, where they were squeezing his waist. “Besides, your rugged good looks would’ve been a distraction.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but still placed a kiss to Sirius’ jaw. “I just mean, _legally_ , I could have been there with you. If he wasn’t there, I should have been there.”

“That’s all a load of shite, anyway,” Pete said with a huff. “There should be a restraining order against _him_ , not Moony.” With a roll of his eyes, Sirius let out a disgusted huff.

“Which we can blame my parents for,” Sirius grumbled.

“Oh, we can blame your parents for a _lot_ of things,” Pete snorted in agreement.

“Well, Moony _did_ intend to murder him,” James grinned shrewdly, but backtracked when things began to get thrown at him. “Which was totally warranted, I’m not saying it wasn’t!”

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Pete scoffed, whacking him with a magazine. 

A blush spread through Remus’ face and Sirius admired it fully. “I didn’t necessarily _intend_ to murder him,” he argued, rather half-heartedly, which sent Sirius’ admiration through the roof.

“I appreciate that you tried,” Sirius said with an arrogant grin, as Remus hung his head, leaning in closely enough that Sirius could simply crane his neck to pull Remus’ lips to his own, tenderly soft and mesmerizingly slow. Sirius could feel Remus getting caught up in it.

Before things got too heated, before James and Peter started making sarcastic gagging sounds from across the table, Andromeda came bursting from the side room, where she did all her needle work. Immediately, the boys all looked up, Remus and Sirius’ lips still locked.

She glanced around the shop, eyes eventually settling on Sirius. “You couldn’t convince Reg to stop by?” she asked, raising her perfectly shaped, pierced brow with a disappointed twist of her burgundy-stained lips. After one more purse of his lips to Remus’, Sirius pulled back.

“He keeps finding excuses,” Sirius grinned smugly. “I think he’s secretly squeamish.”

Not long after he found out about Sirius’ situation, Regulus had moved out of their parents’ house. While he was technically living with Andromeda, Reg spent more and more time at the Potter’s. His face looked less like their mother’s every day. Especially after Euphie’s hugs and that strange little shoulder squeeze that James had apparently learned from Fleamont.

“What was his excuse this time?” Andromeda huffed, walking over and lifting Sirius’ feet from the end of the couch, placing them in her lap as she settled onto the cushion. She didn’t wait for Sirius to answer before turning to Remus. “How’s the wound?” she asked.

“My eyes have stopped watering,” Remus laughed, and she swatted his hand away before he had time to instinctively reach up to touch the new metal adorning his freckled face.

“He _claimed_ he had some questions for Phil,” Sirius scoffed with a flick of his wrist, fluidly returning to the question Andie had asked, remembering from childhood the erratic bounce of her attention span and how it always seemed to come back to the start without prompting.

“He hates it when you call him Phil, you know,” Remus reminded, as he traced the floral pattern on Sirius’ shoulder, leaving gooseflesh along Sirius’ skin in the wake of his fingertip.

“What am I supposed to call him?” Sirius said with a barking laugh. “His name is Xenophilius, for Christ’s sake. Who _does_ that to their child?” Andromeda stifled a laugh.

“You know he’s only a year older than we are?” James said with an exasperated sigh. “My dad said he’s some sort of prodigy.” With his head in Remus’ lap, and Andie’s wrists resting on his shins, as he listened to conversations that he had come to accept as quite ordinary and not at all remarkable or rare or important, Sirius let his eyes flutter closed in absolute fulfillment.

“Barmy is what he is,” he heard Peter interject, and he smiled. “Yesterday, he cornered me in the kitchen to go on about how the British government conspires with some secret society to cover up the existence of magic. _Magic_ , Prongs. Wizards and brooms and potions and shit.”

“Maybe he’s right, Pete.” As Remus joined in the conversation, Sirius could hear the rumble of his words from deep in his chest from where Sirius’ ear was pressed to his belly. He could feel the calm cadence of Remus’ lungs filling with air and emptying in a rhythm that parodied the pulse of waves lapping against the wooden planks of a boat long lost at sea.

But, he wasn’t lost anymore. This was where he had been trying to go, all along. These were the ones for whom his heart had been calling. For his Prongs, secure and tenacious and unyielding, with a heart that was far too large to fit in his body and often went spilling out as charge and nurture for anyone within reaching distance. For his Wormtail, with his unbending support in any capacity, whether that meant offering to cuddle or engaging in questionable behavior to protect the people important to him. For his Lily, for his Marlene, for his Regulus, for his Andie, for Frank and Alice and Dorcas and everyone who made space in their life. For _him_.

For his Moony, with all the scars of his own, who saw beyond the drug addict begging for the next fix, who saw the scars that Sirius was trying to drown, who had pressed his hand, firm and calloused and worn, against Sirius’ chest and taught him to breathe. For his Moony, who was rebelliously kind to counter a past drenched in blood and gore, who was wildly tender in defiance of the violence he had suffered, who loved viciously and frankly and abundantly as a direct, open challenge to anyone who would try to take it away from him.

For his Moony, who had shown him what it is to be free.

“Christmas party at Potter’s tonight?” he heard Andromeda ask, and he heard the resounding affirmation from every voice. Save for one. Missing was the familiar softness and depth and psalm of Remus’ voice that Sirius had grown to worship.

When Sirius peeked open a single eye, he found that Remus had been watching him with a smile as soft as twilight and a gaze as warm as dawn. When he recognized that Sirius had opened his eyes, his smile blossomed into something that Sirius had come to recognize as a defining part of his existence. It was promise and resolve and anticipation. It was the thing that Remus willed for himself, and Sirius had borrowed it until he had sculpted his own.

“What’s on your mind, Pads?” Remus asked, his voice ethereal and soft, like he was only a dream. He stroked Sirius’ hair from his face, his fingers landing on the golden crescent moon that he had first braided into Sirius’ hair what felt like a lifetime ago now.

How many nights Sirius had spent nestled between Remus’ legs as Remus tied that charm back into Sirius’ freshly-washed hair. How many nights Remus had pushed Sirius’ hair over his shoulder so that he could place his lips to the back of Sirius’ neck. How many nights they had made love on the bedroom floor, leaving water marks on the carpet underneath them from the weeping of Sirius’ wet hair into the fibers. God, how much more love they had yet to make.

With the familiar concern in Remus’ eyes glimmering down at him, the golden shimmer of his eyes melting into the bronze curls tumbling just in front of them, Sirius felt the sentiment building on his tongue. His impiousness won out, however, as he replied, smirking.

“I’m imagining the way you say fuck.”

The resounding laugh from Remus’ bright lips was clearer and fuller than Sirius had ever heard it. Sirius’ response had been so muted that the joke went untold, with Sirius too proud to repeat such a perfectly timed quip and Remus too busy laughing to even remember to breathe.

It was the first Christmas party that Sirius had ever been to that he didn’t have to wear formal dress clothes to attend. It was the first Christmas party that Sirius had ever attended where the carolers at the front door weren’t explicitly ignored. It was the first Christmas party Sirius had ever _sought out_ the mistletoe, instead of trying to avoid being caught underneath it.

Near the eggnog and cider, Regulus and Andromeda were having a heated debate about whether Regulus had a fear of needles. Alice and Frank were wearing matching sweaters and taking photographs of everyone in front of the tree. In the corner, Marlene and Dorcas were trying to agree on which songs deserved to be on the party playlist. On the white couch, Sirius sat in Remus’ lap, and Lily in James’, with Pete squished right in the middle.

At some point, Peter joked about their ill-fated parties – how something catastrophic always seems to interrupt them. Sirius shook his head. After all, if it hadn’t been for a party at James Potter’s house, Sirius never would have met them. He never would have met Remus.

They took three photographs that night. The first, holding hands in front of the Christmas tree. They would give it to Remus’ parents when Sirius met them for the first time at Christmas dinner. The second, kissing happily underneath the mistletoe. That one would go to James’ parents to put on the mantle, with the other family pictures. The last, a graphic, salacious kiss under that same mistletoe, with explicit tongue, grinding hips, and Remus’ hand on Sirius’ arse.

This one, they said as they extended matching middle fingers, would go to Sirius’ parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, who stuck with me and read this all the way through. I love you all.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear your comments, or you can send me a shout on tumblr [@mollymarymarie](https://mollymarymarie.tumblr.com/) ❤️


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